Hunger Strikes
by Princess Ashley aka MO
Summary: Katniss is home, but she struggles with the aftermath of the Games, her feelings for Peeta and Gale, and the threat of the Capitol still breathing down her neck. More inside. P/K *CH10 UP*
1. The Feast

Hunger Strikes

By: Princess Ashley

AN: I own nothing but the laptop I use to write this with.

Summary: I don't want to give too much away but here's the gist:

Katniss has returned from the Hunger Games in one piece. She struggles with memories of her time in the arena, her feelings for Peeta and Gale, and the threat from the Capitol still breathing down her neck. She also struggles to find what her purpose now is: her family is being taken care of and she's got money and food to spare. How do you live when you no longer need to survive?

One: The Feast

The second the doors open, Peeta and I are blinded by flashing lights and our ears deafen to the noise that explodes all around us. My eyes adjust soon enough, and all I see are the many heads of all the people in District 12. Their smiling faces and the cameras of the press and the pressure of Peeta's hand in mine is overwhelming.

Down the train, I can see many tables being set up for the feast that is to be held in our honor, and no doubt to assure the district of the many gifts to come from the Capitol. The tables are set, and the crowd's eyes quickly turn from Peeta and I to the many platters of food being carried from the train. This is our gift for winning the Hunger Games; our gift to our own district. I can see the half-starved faces of parents and children from the Seam light up at the prospect of food. I try hard to smile as I feel tears forming behind my eyes.

Then, when I look into the crowd, they finally started to fall. Prim, my beloved Prim, the one I would have given my life up for, is rushing towards me. Her small petite body is bullied and shoved as she tries to squeeze through the hoard to get to me.

I break my grip with Peeta and rush forward to receive her, throwing my arms out and catching her in strong grasp.

"Katniss!" She cries, and I feel her wet face on the side of my neck, her tears started to fall down into the collar of my shirt. I bury my face in her hair. It smells clean. The Capitol has taken care of the families of the tributes, wanting them to look good on TV for when we finally arrive home.

"I was so scared for you…" She sobs. I run my hands through her hair. I think of a thousand things I want to say to her, but I can't find the words. All I want to do is hold her. The Hunger Games seem like a bad dream now.

I feel another arm wind around both Prim and I, and another wet face presses into my neck and my mother pulls me to her. "You beat all, my girl. My little girl…..never again." I know my mother is probably experiencing more turmoil with her words than I am. Before I left, I had been bitter and afraid that my leaving would push her over the deep end. I was angry, and I hoped to whatever God there was that she would protect Prim with all that she had. It seems she has. I once thought that I would never forgive my mother for all she has put us through, but the moment she touches me my heart forgives her.

I hold them for what seems like ages. Soon I don't even register the sounds around me, the flashes, the people, anything. But I can feel my family, and for a second, I can even feel my father, wrapping his strong arms around all three of us.

The tears feel very foreign to me, since I had spent the past month trying to hold them all in. I don't feel like I have to hide them anymore, even though I am sure the cameras are zooming in on us, trying to capture all these moments that are mine. Not theirs.

Suddenly, I hear loud guffaws of laughter close by. I look up from my mother's shoulder, and I can see all the cameras suddenly turning to something to my left. Prim lifts her head to, and I see her smiling slightly at me before turning to the source of the commotion.

I had forgotten about Peeta while I embraced my family. As soon as remorse takes me for leaving him up there alone to deal with the crowd, it leaves, for he's standing a few yards away, where his older brothers seem to have caught him in a headlock and are ruffling his shaggy blonde hair. I hear Peeta's laughs from under the bodies of his brothers, and I see his father laughing with them. I look beyond them to see his mother with a smile trying to break through her pursed lips. I let a smile of my own stretch across my face.

"Peeta Bread! We knew you could do it, you ol' dough head!" The boy I take as his oldest brother is still gripping Peeta by his hair, and another hand gripping his shoulder.

"Who knew all those years of frosting them damn cakes would save your life, one day!?" The younger one laughed.

Peeta's smile is wide and genuine. It's different from the times that he smiled at me in the arena. He would smile at me as if he would be okay living his last few moments just starring at me. A wistful and adoring smile. His smile now is carefree and relieved. His eyes seem to sparkle with laughter and happiness as he wrestles with his brothers. A few other boys that I recognize as his friends from school start to join the scuffle. Peeta seems delighted with all his friends and family around him.

I realize that while I have kept very close track of him in school, I never noticed how other react around him. During the games, I was amazed at how easy-going he seemed to be most of the time, even when death was imminent. Now I can see that the natural laid-back nature of the boy with the bread was captivating. I see by the way that he interacts with his friends and family, everyone loves him.

….and he loves me.

Gale.

I let out a breath of air as he comes into my view.

Gale.

Tall, broad shouldered, handsome….

Gale.

"Hey there, Catnip." A beautiful smile stretches across his face as he comes forward to embrace me. I hold him as though he is my lifeline, the only thing holding me to the ground. I missed my best friend more than words could say.

"_Katniss?"_

I blink. Peeta?

"_Peeta!"_

The crowd around me fades away, and suddenly I'm back in the arena, in the cave, with Peeta.

…_he smiles as if he'd be happy to lie there gazing at me forever. _

The pressure of Gale's arms around me disappears.

"_Remember, we're madly in love, so it's all right to kiss me anytime you feel like it…..Katniss….thank you for finding me…."_

"_Katniss…"_

"_Katniss"_

"Katniss!"

I was shaken abruptly. Had that not been real?

The sounds of the crowd around come back, and I feel Gale's large hands on my shoulders, shaking me. He looks intensely into my eyes, worry written on his face. I try to smile, but Peeta's loving smiles haunt me.

"You seemed okay on TV, I didn't think you'd still be suffering the after effects." Gale's laughter reaches me.

I look up to him, trying to make the concern in his eyes go away. "I'm fine. It's just…I'm so happy to see you. I didn't…I didn't think I would ever be able to." That's partly true.

He smiles, and hugs me tightly. "You had me scared a few times. When they found you in that tree, I thought you were gone. Nasty little spit with the tracker jackers by the way." He adds, and a few of the crowd around us share a laugh.

I wasn't sure if I should laugh with them or not. At the time, it seemed so horrific, and I had thought that it would be the end right there. And then I remember Glimmer. Beautiful Glimmer, with large bulbous stings all over her perfect body, and I can't laugh. Gale understands that, and his mouth presses into a thin line.

"It's a nasty business, Catnip. But you did what you had to do. You survived." Gale looks away from me briefly, and I can tell that he's searching out Peeta. "I've never really talked to that guy before." He looks back at me, still serious. "I couldn't believe that stunt you two pulled. Star-crossed lovers. He sure knows how to play it." He says this so quietly that I'm sure the people around us can't hear.

So Peeta was right when he said that Gale would be able to recognize a bluff. _But it wasn't a bluff._ Not for Peeta, it wasn't. For Peeta, it was all real.

I suddenly feel very alone. In the presence of my friends and family, I hadn't expected to feel alone. I had felt alone in the arena, and I had wished for them so that I would feel safe. But I don't now. I feel that none of them understand what has happened to me. I don't understand what has happened to me.

I understand what it must be like Haymitch now. Everything that seemed important before now doesn't seem so important. Things that would have been funny to me before aren't funny anymore. And the people I have spent my entire life with now feel like strangers.

…and the only one I feel that can truly understand me is standing several feet away, laughing with his family, careless as the wind.

I wish I could be careless. I think too much.

"Come on, Catnip. The feast is about to start." Gale pulls me by the waist towards the tables to sit with my mother and sister. I sit between them, and Gale crosses to sit in front of me. He shares a smile with me and pushes a platter in my direction. Lamb Stew. I smile, letting a laugh through my lips.

I turn to my left, and my thin little sister is starring at the platter hungrily. On my right, my mother looks like she is waiting for something. It seems like everyone is waiting for something. But I am tired of waiting. My hungry little district is trying to look civilized on camera, so that we don't come across as unkempt savages. But I want the Capitol to see what they have done to us. We're starved for food that doesn't exist in this place.

Haymitch isn't here to coach me anymore, and I know that the displeasure of the Capitol is resting in my hands. Peeta is home free; he didn't do anything that would suggest defiance. I don't know if I should wait for whatever everyone else is waiting for, or just dig in. I see the hungry looks of Gale's brothers and sisters as they stare at the food. Their hollow cheeks, circled eyes, and gaping mouths.

I can't take it any longer. Nothing is happening. So at the risk of looking like a savage, I manage to get up quite gracefully, pick up a large spoon that rests in a bowl of hot water off to the side, and scoop a large portion of lamb stew onto Prim's plate before doing the same for my mother. I feel very proud as I reach across to put some onto Gale's plate, and then his brothers and sisters pass the platter along. This is my gift to them. This is why I had needed to survive in the arena. I had spent my entire life providing for my family, and that gave me comfort and pleasure. Now, I am providing for my entire district. I can give them this, and it makes me happy.

I feel a hand on my shoulder, and my mother is pulling me towards her again. "You have always been a blessing to me, Katniss. I'm sorry that I was always a burden to you. You are more of a mother to Prim than I ever was." She presses her lips into my hair.

I don't know what to say, so I just watch as she picks up a fork to stab the lamb to bring it to her mouth. Prim…. is it possible to gobble food in a graceful manner? If so, there you have it. Gale is already done, but makes sure to break some bread and put it on his siblings' plates, filling them completely before helping himself to more. He tells them to eat slowly so their stomachs won't upset. He and I are so alike that sometimes it's uncanny.

The sounds are gone as everyone digs into their food. They are much too hungry to talk. I'm hardly hungry though, and I pick through my lamb stew, bring it to my mouth and let the explosion of flavor entice my taste buds. I coat a biscuit with butter and soak it into the gravy.

I feel eyes on the top of my head, and I know who it is before I look up.

This may be the first time that he's looked at me since I left him standing in the train, when I broke his grip to run towards my family. I recognize the look he's giving me. It's the same look he would use when he would look at me from across the hall at school. Longing.

I wait for him to turn his head, but he doesn't. He's waiting for me to react to him, tell him something with my body language, perhaps. All throughout the Games I felt like I had to show some kind of reaction to please the crowd. I would smile at him in a way that a girl would look at a guy she liked. I don't feel any pressure whatsoever now, but I still let a smile spread across my face. It's not a loving smile and it's by no means an adoring smile. I smile at him because I want something back. He knows that I want something back.

And he gives it to me: that carefree smile that lets me know that we have no worries anymore. That smile that makes everything else around me disappear. It makes my worries go away, and makes me feel safe. Peeta's smile and warmth makes me feel safe. In the arena, when I laid beside him in the coldness of the cave, with my head on his shoulder and his arms wrapped securely around me, I felt safe. After my father died, I never felt the feeling of being cared for. Gale never needed to care for me, and I hadn't wanted him to. He had enough people to care for. But Peeta cared for me. He has always cared for me.

So why can't I tell him that?

*Edited: 10/29/08


	2. Even the Winner Loses in the End

Two: The Move

Hunger Strikes

By: Princess Ashley

AN: I own nothing.

So, I like reading my reviews from time to time. First of all, thank you for the reviews. I'll thank Christene Quinn for pointing out my fouls in the first chapter. I have gone back and tried to correct them to the best of my ability. I believe that I've corrected most if not all of them. Having said that, feedback is very important to me. I hope that if you read my story and like it, you'll let me know. If you read it and don't review, I feel like you don't like it, and if that's the case, please let me know what I can do better.

Also, I don't know if you've noticed, but I'm trying to write this in the same way Suzanne Collins would have written it. The next book doesn't come out until October 2009, and frankly, I can drive myself crazy waiting that long. I've written this in the same point of view as the book, or tried to, and tried to keep all the characters true to themselves. Key word being 'try'.

But I do like the feedback, and I'm always looking for new inspirations. So if you have any ideas, please let me know. If I like it, I'll see if I can incorporate it somehow. But I'm on an idea binge so far; so let's see how far it takes me.

As for updates: I am in college, and working on a very hectic schedule right now. I'll try to keep my updates regular, but as always, school comes before fanfiction. Sad but true. I'll try to never keep you waiting for more than two weeks though. I take a lot of pride in my work and try to never give you anything less than my best. I do the edits on my own, and that takes time, so bear with me. And I'll never give you less than 2,500 words per chapter. Not my style.

Thank you, and enjoy!

Two: Even the Winner Loses in the End

After the feast, everyone bids us farewell and continues on home for the night. I am pulled aside for interviews, and they even have questions for my mother and Prim.

"What did you feel when you saw your sister take your place during the Reaping?'

"How did you feel when you had to go to school knowing that when you came back your sister might have died?"

"Could you even bear to watch?"

Prim's lips tremble with fear and her eyes start to tear, and I see firsthand how horrible it must have been for them to watch me battle for my life everyday. If Prim had gone instead of me, I would have stood outside the electronic store starring at the televisions for hours on end. I can't imagine that I would ever be able to look away. If someone can live it, then others will have to watch. I watch her closely as she answers with a poise that I will never be able to accomplish.

"Katniss has always provided for me." Prim begins with redness in her eyes. She turns to look at me while she speaks. "Mother was sick for a long time, and Katniss took care of both of us. She has always made sure that we have food to eat, and she helps me look presentable at school. She sings to me when I'm sick, and does whatever mother tells her needs done."

My mother has her arms around my waist and clings to me desperately, as if she thinks the cameramen will steal me away. She whispers "I'm sorry….Katniss, I'm sorry…" Every time she asks, I forgive her. Over and over again.

"I knew that if I got picked, that Katniss would volunteer. I was worried, but I knew that if anyone from District 12 had a chance of winning it all, she did." Her faith in me warms me to her, and I hear the fondness in her voice.

My mother speaks to them as well. "Whenever I would see her on the television, or I would hear stories from others every second I took my eyes off of it, I would cry and fear for her. But not because I doubted her." She looks into my eyes as she speaks, and I see shame and pride blend together. "Katniss has always had so much weight on her shoulders, and she never complains. I cry because she shouldn't have to go through what she does. She shouldn't have to feel like she has to do everything for everyone else. But she does." Tears slip down her cheeks, and I don't know what else to do but to squeeze her gently until the reporters are out of questions.

We continue home together. Gale has to leave before we do to get his siblings to bed, and to tend to his parents. He presses his lips to my hair before he leaves. "I'm proud of you, Catnip. I don't think anyone else around here could do what you have done." He flashes me a smile, and walks away. In all our interactions, he never seems to feel like anything more than a close friend, maybe even a brother at times. Maybe I'm the only one who sees more than that.

***

The past few days have been a blur. Everyday came a new surprise; pleasant surprises for once.

The first was a delivery of food from the Capitol that filled up our pantry and cabinets. The dingy old refrigerator is filled with fruit, vegetables, frozen steaks and pork and chicken. There are cakes with the brilliant colored frosting that Prim is so fond of, and quarts of ice cream in the freezer. They brought so much that any patients my mother had within the last few days got a complementary bushel of all the bread and fruit that we didn't have room for. There would be more.

The second came in the form of a private account at the bank in the Capitol. A shiny black card came in the mail two days ago with instructions on how to us it, and a letter addressed to me told me I will never want for anything else for the rest of my life. It told me that I could access my account online, but I don't have a computer. My mother makes a list of all the things we need to adjust to this new life. I need to figure out a way to get these cards for Prim and my mother. I won't be able to spend the money on my own. They are better equipped at spending money on useless things than I am.

The third, and maybe the last, probably shouldn't have been so surprising, but it caused my mother to practically fall out of her seat.

I had forgotten about Victor's Village until a representative from the Capitol showed up at our little shack in the Seam to let us know that our new 'dwelling' would be finished by the end of the week, and that they would send people to help us to move our things.

I think my mother is taking it hard. My father made this house for us. He crafted the cabinets that hang in our kitchen. Mother had tired of having everything just spread out on the tables that marked off the kitchen from the rest of our house. I'll see if I can ask the workers to install our own cabinets into the kitchen at our new house. I think it will make it more like home. Well, as much as a two-story mansion in a gauche high-end neighborhood can be.

Gale helps us pack our things up. We don't have much, so it doesn't take long between the four of us. Prim and I have one box of clothes and my mother has two, along with another box of medicine and toiletries that we share amongst us. It's only the food that sets us back a little. The food takes up almost eight boxes. We don't know about the donkey and Buttercup. My mother insists that we leave Buttercup and buy a more attractive animal, but Prim will have none of it. Her concern for that ugly and ferocious animal concerns me. I think about killing it and stewing the meat without her knowing before I remember that I no longer have to hunt for my food.

While we rest, I also start to think about hunting. I can't get my mind around not needing to hunt. My life before the games was all about where I was going to get my next meal, get Prim to school on time and looking presentable, and make sure my mom wakes up in the mornings. What can I do now that all these things are being provided for me?

I feel Gale come out beside me. We have something of a porch behind our house, but it's actually just a slab of concrete that creates a ledge between it and the mud on the ground. Gale sits on my left, and stares out into the Seam with me.

"Got the rest of your things packed." He says, and I nod.

"Thank you for helping." I really am grateful, but my face is masked. It's odd. When did the mask I used for the games become my real face? And when did I use my real face as a mask? Why was everything so backwards? I don't understand what I'm trying to hide from Gale. I've never had to hide from Gale.

"It's gonna be weird not having you hunting with me anymore." He says, turning his grey eyes to me.

"Just because I don't have to hunt anymore doesn't mean I won't join you. Hunting is still my favorite pastime." I tell him, meaning it.

"Only because it had to be." Maybe he's right. Maybe I only enjoyed it because it was something I had to do. But I don't think so. I remember always being happy in the wilderness with Gale, hunting for our families. Gale always told me that I never smiled unless I was in the woods. That was true. I didn't smile anywhere else.

"I'm sure the animals will be grateful that you are no longer hunting them." He chuckles, but I detect something under his humor.

"I can still come with you, you know. Just for something to do." I try to reason with him.

His jaw clenches, and I know I've said something wrong. "It's not going to work, Katniss. There's no point in hunting unless you have to. If I had what you have now, I wouldn't hunt either. It's not amusing to me that you'll be standing by watching while I scavenge to feed my family."

That hurts. But it's true. I would find someone just watching what I have to do to survive day by day extremely irritating. But it still hurts that Gale would say that. I try to catch his eyes, but they are trained forward, and his black hair shields his expression from me.

"Ugh!" I cry, and stomp my feet childishly into the mud. The Hunger Games had its way of ruining people's lives. I didn't understand that before. Now I do. I understand that you can't go back to your old life after the games. They don't allow that. I should be happy that my family will never starve again, never go hungry. I should be happy the weight of their wellbeing is no longer on my shoulders. Anyone would be. And part of me is. But how do I live my life any other way?

Gale gazes at me now, his eyes clouded with uncertain emotions.

I never hid my feelings from him. I'm not sure why I'm doing that now. I try to remedy that by spitting out all that I feel. "The Hunger Games destroy lives, even the winner's life. I fight to survive my entire life, and I did the same in the arena for nearly a month. It was more of the same. Now I'm back and I'm expected to live, and not survive? Surviving is all I know _how_ to do! What do I do when I'm not fighting for my life?" I bit out, and tears are coming from my eyes again. I've never cried this much before.

I feel Gale's arm wrap around my shoulder and squeeze me to his hard body. I lean my head on his shoulder, and take a deep breath. He leans his head onto mine.

"We were in the survival business Katniss. You are the reason that your sister and mother are still alive. You've paid your dues, and now you can retire, and try to live like you're not from the Seam." His baritone rumbles lowly, and his throat contracts on my cheek.

"I don't know how to live like that. I don't think I want to live like that." I had lived my father's life for so long, I think that if I stop, I will forget him eventually. And Gale. I never talk to him unless we're hunting. Will that change as well? Will Gale find another hunting partner? Will he forget about me? _Never forget me, Gale_. I want to tell him.

Instead I tell him, "We'll still talk, right? You won't go off and find another hunting buddy?" I try to be playful, but I know he knows I'm serious.

He squeezes me to assure me. "Of course not. I mean… it'd be nice if I could find another hunting buddy. But no one will replace you, you know? You're my Catnip. And we'll talk. We still have school together."

I think about all the girls that stare at him the hallways at school. I wonder if any of them worked up the nerve to talk to him while I was gone? Gale never showed interest in any of them before. The question is: why do I care?

***

Workers show up in the morning to take our things to the new house. They come with a large loading truck, but they don't need it. We only have a little over a dozen boxes of belongings. My mother talks to the representative from the Capitol about the cabinets, and the man agrees. They delicately get to work on taking the oak cabinets out from the walls.

Once again, Gale comes to help with the moving, but he isn't needed. Instead of attempting to assist the helpers, we decide to go ahead and look at the area that my family will be occupying from now on. It takes only a half hour for us to get to Victor's Village. It's a gated community in the wilderness with a lot of property for each of the residences.

I give my name to a man at the gate, and he tells me a code to enter on the keypad from now on. I type it in, and the gates open.

"Sweetheart!"

Haymitch is drunk.

"It's so good to see you finally! This place is so lonely without any other neighbors!"

Haymitch is really drunk.

He stumbles his way towards me, and I'm positive that he will crush me on impact, but before he reaches me, an arm nabs the back of his jacket and holds him steady.

"C'mon, Haymitch. Katniss doesn't need another unpleasant memory of you."

Peeta.

I don't know why I didn't expect him to be here as well. He's shaking his head at Haymitch, trying to steady the older man. He's dressed well. Nice looking jean pants and a white long-sleeve shirt. His mother must have taken him shopping as soon as she received the card in the mail. I can't imagine Peeta picking out those clothes for himself.

Then I pause. How do I know what Peeta dresses like? Peeta knows bread, and he's a heavy lifter. He has survival instincts even though he's never had to survive. He has many friends and admirers, and he's spent most of his life loving me. And he's funny.

I think about all the accumulated information I have acquired on Peeta, and I realize that I don't know him. I know his smiles, and his life, but I don't know what he likes. He likes me. That's all so far. He likes to wrestle. What's his favorite color? Is bread is favorite food, since that's all he ever eats? He likes my singing, but does he like music? He works at his father's bakery, but is that all he wants to do when he grows up?

"…crazy stuff you pulled in that arena. That was amazing how you…"

"…yeah well you'd be amazed at what you can do when you're life is on the line…"

I look up, and I freeze at the scene before me.

Peeta….is talking to Gale. Haymitch… is starring at me with a knowing look in his eyes. I scowl at him. How does he go from completely drunk to intuitive that fast?

"That your boyfriend, sweetheart?" He asks me, quiet so the other two can't hear.

" I don't have a boyfriend." I hiss at him. I don't think….?

"That's the boy that Peeta was referring to when you got all worked up about his interview, no?" He smiles.

I sigh. "Gale and I are just hun....friends." Haymitch knows that I hunt, but I still feel uneasy about saying it aloud with anyone other than Gale.

"I'm sure, sweetheart."

I want to yell at him to stop calling me sweetheart, but I feel Gale and Peeta looking at me. I send another scowl to Haymitch, who is barely concealing his laughter as he walks off. I see him heading towards a house in the quad that I guess is his own.

I walk towards Peeta and Gale.

Peeta saves me the trouble of breaking the ice. "Haymitch got a little over-excited when my family showed up this morning. Showered plenty of gifts though. I think we have enough alcohol to last through Christmas." He jokes, and Gale laughs as well. I crack a smile, but I'm too uncomfortable to enjoy Peeta's jokes.

Peeta shows us his new house. The houses all generally look alike, but with subtle differences here and there. They are all large and beautiful, with cream stucco paint and large neatly trimmed front yards. They have large windows with dark wooden shutters, and tiled roofs. Arranged in a circle around the pearly gravel road, the center of the large quad is a beautiful stone fountain, in which an angel carries the emblem of the Hunger Games. I frown. The Capitol would want to drive the reason they were here into our heads, wouldn't they?

"The inside is huge. We can go in but I warn you, my mother is inside facilitating the entire thing. The workers may be getting frustrated with her. She's very specific." Peeta says, with a fond smile on his face as we walk up the marble steps to the patio. He opens the large wooden door and inside is a sight. Everything is cream colored with tiled marble floors. A grand staircase is the centerpiece of the room. I can see a kitchen fully equipped though an archway in the back and to the left, and windows line the back of the house. Outside of them I see a large swimming pool that it seems Peeta's brothers are taking advantage of.

Can I live in a place like this?

"Pretty overwhelming, right?"

I turn and Peeta is smiling wryly as he looks anywhere but me.

"I don't see what was so terrible about our other home, but my mother insists on pointing out all of its shortcomings now that she's settled here."

Sure enough, I hear shouting coming from the second floor of the house as Peeta's mother hacks into a worker not lining her photo frames correctly.

Peeta and Gale chuckle together, and I let a smile crack my lips.

"It will be a change, but one that she is completely willing to make."

I couldn't help laughing this time, and Peeta gives me a big smile. He always knows how to make me laugh.

Peeta stops abruptly, and stares out the door that is left open. "Looks like your movers are here."

Gale and I turn to see a truck coming through the gates and pull around the quad. I see little Prim with her head stuck out the window of the truck, gazing around in wonder. My mother must be in the truck as well. They couldn't have gotten here any other way.

"Better get going then. You'll want to protect your mom from Haymitch. I was dragging him away from my mother when you arrived. Hope you didn't spend any money on drinks, Haymitch will think you forgot about him."

I turn to Peeta. I have scarcely said two words to him since we got off the train. I'll admit that I'm afraid what any serious conversation between us would entail, but I do want to let him know that I never wanted to hurt him.

I think Gale understands I want to talk to Peeta alone because he nods his head and tells him it was nice to meet him before he walks out the front door to assist my mother. I watch him leave.

"I never expected this to happen, you know." I settled on. I had struggled with my thoughts around Gale and when I had just decided to blurt out what I felt, it had gone okay. I hope it works again.

"I didn't know you weren't faking at the beginning. Everyone else could tell that you weren't, but I couldn't." He stares at me with his hands in his pockets. I don't know what to do with my own hands, so I fold them in front of me instead. They're slippery with sweat. "I thought it was all an act in the arena as well. I thought you understood what was happening whenever we would be close and then Haymitch would send something. It never occurred to me that you weren't acting, you did everything you were supposed to do." He had done everything exactly on cue. It was unfathomable that he managed to do that without any forethought whatsoever.

"I don't think I realized that you weren't faking until you told me that story about your father in school that day. It was so precise, I thought you must have been a master at the game I thought we were playing."

He's still silent, and I'm still struggling with everything that I wanted to say.

"I just wanted you to know, it wasn't completely fake."

He has something in his eyes now. I'm not sure what it is, but I continue anyway.

"When you kissed me, after the fever was gone, and your leg was better, and we both weren't delirious with hunger, I liked it. I wanted more. But we were dying…I mean, we could have died in there." Tears are coming again. Will they ever stop coming? "I care about you, Peeta. I feel like you are the only one who can understand me now. What is happening to me is happening to you as well, right?" I'm desperate for the assurance that I'm not going through this alone.

"You mean wondering how you can be expected to live after you've spent so long just trying to survive?" I blink at him. Yes…that's exactly right. "You mean how are you supposed to live day by day with the kind of memories that we have? That we've killed people?" I gulp. That's also right. The boy from District 1, and Peeta had killed the girl who started the fire the second night.

His eyes are intense but compassionate…caring. I see it, and I want him to hold me. I want him to hold me like he did in the cave. I want him to pull my head onto his shoulder and wrap his arms around me and run his fingers through my hair. I want him to kiss me.

"But you have to know, Katniss. You have to know that deep down, we never won the Games. They're not over. We're going to be surviving those games for the rest of our lives. We did horrible things to survive. Not as horrible as some, but still, horrible!" His bellflower eyes are shining with unshed tears.

"You know why Haymitch is drunk all the time? It's easier that way. He doesn't have to live if he can't tell his hands from his feet. All of this, Katniss?" He waves his hands about the quad. These perfect houses and that perfect marble angel in the middle of all of it; My mother and Prim with smiles on their faces as they set to exploring the inside of our new house. "It's an illusion. They want to make it seem like we've won something. Like, somehow, we've done something good. We haven't done anything good Katniss. There are no winners in the Hunger Games. It's just taking us longer to lose." He has his hands on my shoulders now, gripping me strongly but not hurting me.

He's right. He's always right.

I wrap my arms around his waist and place my head on his chest. He hugs my shoulders and rests his head on top of mine. His tears soak into my hair. He was always better at showing emotions than me. My own tears fall down my face and onto his clean white shirt.

I've changed my mind. I do know Peeta. Maybe not trivial things, like what his favorite color is, or what he wants to be when he grows up. But I know his heart, and it's the same as mine.

Peeta sighs against me, and squeezes me tenderly. I nuzzle against his chest. This can happen. I know I can be happy right here, in his arms, forever.

I just don't know if forever is meant for me.


	3. None of Us Are Angels

Hunger Strikes

By: Princess Ashley

AN: I own nothing.

I may have given some false hopes about the quickness of my updates. I'm not always going to be able to update every other day. That was just luck that I ended up finishing so fast. My inspiration comes and goes.

Thank you PeetaKatniss for that wonderful review. I'm very flattered that you went through that long and painful process of creating a screen name at just for me. =)

Alice W., thank you so much for being the first one to review. I always need the support. =)

Lost in Believing, thank you as well for reviewing twice! And you're thinking along the same lines as me. *hint* haha.

**Three: None of Us Are Angels**

My room is very large when I first see it. Peeta didn't have time to show me any of the bedrooms in his house, so I didn't know what to expect in my own house. The house that we were taken to is at the other side of the quad, beside Haymitch's house, much to my displeasure. Prim finds him funny though, so at least she's happy.

First thing: When I reach the top of the stairs, my feet sink into the soft brown carpets. My mother had made Prim and I take our boots off at the door as soon as she had seen the clean hardwood floors. Peeta's house had marble floors, but I suspect that the representatives from the Capitol were doing more than merely informing us of the day we would be moved from our house to the new one. He must have made several observations of our old house to make sure that our new house was as comfortable as possible.

The second floor has a wide hallway with an expansive balcony that wraps around the living room. There are many doors, and I find out that the house has four bedrooms, including one master bedroom. Of course, my mother has that room. Prim has claimed the room adjacent to my mother, so I take the room down the hall from both of them. I like the privacy anyway. It's a step up from sharing a room with the both of them.

Many of the rooms are already furnished, so I'm not surprised to find a large queen sized bed with a mahogany bed frame that matches the rest of the furniture. It is completed with two nightstands on either side of the bed that is pushed against the far wall facing the door. There are large windows on either side of the bed with long flowing white curtains. There is a large chest of drawers next to a spacious closet, and a stand to the right of the door has a slim television set with lots of electronics on the shelves below. Gale tells me that the small one is for playing movies, and the box above it controls which channels I get. I figure I'll let him play with it while I put my things away.

The workers have already left. It was a waste for them to come anyway. We carried all the boxes into the house in one trip. Father's cabinets look very at home in the kitchen, only slightly lighter than the floors. It actually looks tasteful.

There are many hangers in the closet, but I have nothing that needs to hang. I fold all my clothes into the chest of drawers while Gale fiddles with the remote he finds on my nightstand.

"There's too many buttons. I'm not used to all these choices!"

I laugh at the scandalized look on his face. "Might as well take it with you. I don't watch any TV. And if I need to, I can always just watch in the living room." It baffles me why anyone can possibly need television sets in every room of their house.

He presses a button at the top of the remote, and stares expectantly at the television.

Nothing happens.

He frowns and looks at the back. "This thing take batteries?" He asks, and I shrug. The week I spent in the lap of luxury at the Capitol taught me nothing about modern electronics.

He presses another button at the bottom of the remote, and suddenly I notice the room is getting darker. I look up at the many circular lights in the ceiling as they start to dim on us, and a second later we're in darkness.

Complete darkness.

"Ah…what? How do I turn the lights back on?" He cries. I can't see him in the pit black room, but I can imagine he's got a very irritated look on his face.

I almost laugh at the situation, before I think maybe it's better to not provoke him.

"I don't know! Press another button."

He blindly feels his way around the remote, and presses another button. My eardrums break with the horrible sounds that suddenly wrack through the room.

"WHAT THE HELL? TURN IT OFF!" I yelp, or I think I do.

I can't hear the sound of my own voice, and I try to protect my ears with my hands, but it doesn't help at all. What kind of horrible racket is this? Is this supposed to be pleasant? It sounds like someone screaming with horrible brain scrambling thumping in the background. Is someone being tortured?

Then the horrible wailing is gone, but the lights are still off. I feel like my ears are bleeding, and there is still a ringing in them that makes me want to cry.

"Are you okay?"

I hear Gale's unsure voice in the darkness, and he's close. I reach out and I feel the threadbare fabric of his shirt. I curl my fingers around it, and tug him forward.

"Stop messing around, and get the lights back on." I say through clenched teeth, and he chuckles, his breath hitting my forehead. It's very hard to be threatening when the person you're trying to threaten is half a foot taller than you and he can't even see how mad you are.

"I would if I could Catnip, believe me."

I feel his hand reach up and hear the click of a button as he pushes it. We both tense waiting for the next assault.

I hear the faint spray of a showerhead turning on behind me.

I giggle a bit. Am I supposed to carry this remote with me wherever I go?

I hear another click as Gale presses another button.

We bask in the glow that erupts as the TV finally comes on.

We laugh and can see enough to reach for the light switch on the other side of the massive room. Gale flicks it on, and then sighs in exasperation.

"I forgot which button I pushed."

***

Gale has homework to do, so he leaves as the clock reads 5:00 PM. He gives me a kiss on my forehead and leaves through the front door. I hope he comes over a lot from now on. Maybe we can still stay this way, even though we can no longer hunt together. I know that if he ever needs it, I can always just give him the food that we have in excess now. I doubt that he'll accept it though. Gale has too much pride for that.

I walk through our spacious kitchen and watch as my mother hums to herself as she boils some spuds in a large steel pot and cuts up apples to roast.

"Can I help with anything?" I ask, and she looks at me in surprise.

We talk more now than we have in a long time. Winning the Hunger Games will never be a blessing in my eyes, but at least a few things I can be grateful for. I never have to worry that my mother will shut down. It saddens me that it takes a large house, plenty of food, and a shiny black card to make her this happy. I hope that she has other reasons for being content.

She smiles at me, and gestures me over to her side.

"There are some steaks in the freezer." She nods towards our brand new stainless steel refrigerator that reaches from the floor almost to the ceiling. "We can roast the meat on the grill outside."

I didn't notice the door between the kitchen and the living room, but from the windows I can see a large slab of concrete, and a large chimney-looking structure with a bare hearth. Next to it, encased in brick, is more stainless steel. It's a grill. I've never worked on a grill before, but I know how to roast meat. It can't be that hard.

I pull the meat from the freezer to let it thaw. I arrange them on one of the china plates that I find in father's cabinets. It's nice to have something familiar in a house full of new and strange things. I take the plate and walk outside. I walk down the brick stairs onto the concrete, and approach the grill.

There is a slab next to it and I set the plate down. I look nervously at the shiny grill in front of me. I lift the top open. I don't see any coals, but there is a remote. _Not another one._ I take a hold of it, and am relieved to see the functions of the buttons written below them. I find a large red button at the top that reads 'Ignite'. I press it.

"AAHHHHHH!!!!" I scream at the top of my lungs as fire bursts through the bottom of the grill and up into my face. No man-made fire ever ignited that fast! It's supposed to be slowly building, not bursting into your face! The fire has singed the fly-aways from my braid and I know it's burned my forehead.

"Katniss?" My mother's voice is behind me, but I'm too embarrassed to turn my head.

"Sorry, sorry. I'm fine. Just surprised." I manage to say. My forehead is stinging.

"Oh, alright. Do you need any help?"

"No, I got it."

I hear the door close and I let out a breath. I could die from this embarrassment. I'm the smart one in this family. I've provided their food and money for most of my life. I survive the Hunger Games with twenty-three others trying to kill me and I am almost taken out by the shiny silver grill in my backyard. I miss the control I had in my other life.

"Sun-burned, Katniss?"

I turn my head and see Prim standing beside me with a playful smile on her face. I turn away quickly, but she's already seen the peeling skin on my forehead and the singed ends of my hair.

"This house is so strange."

I nod, staring at the calmed embers in the grill. I check the steaks to see that they have thawed mostly on the outside, enough to start cooking them. I pull a pair of tongs that hang from the bar below the grill and start to place the steaks onto the metal racks.

"Sounds like you and Gale were having fun in your room."

That's true, but the way she says it surprises me. I turn to her with a shocked look on my face.

She looks smug. "I mean about the music."

She meant to shock me. I can feel it.

I'm still suspicious. "We were trying to figure out the remote. Or Gale was, and then he got the lights turned off and couldn't find the button to turn them back on again." I prefer to do things manually, but boys always seem to find electronics fascinating. "Wait…that was _music?_"

Prim nods. "A girl in my class has family that live in the Capitol. They send her these small little disks with music on them. It's strange music, but maybe that's what they listen to now."

I can remember no musical value in that ruckus I heard earlier.

"That's not all you can listen to though. They have nice music to. There's a screen in the kitchen, and when you touch it, you can press whatever kind of music that you like, and it plays it throughout the house." She smiles. "Maybe you can sing more, instead of just when I'm sick."

I look at her, and she looks shyly back at me. The steaks cackle on the grill. The sun is settling behind Prim's head. The glow makes a halo around her golden head, and her blue eyes take on ethereal shine, and I see the light green speckles in them. She would never be this kind of a sight in the Seam. There was not enough light in the Seam, only shades of grey. Everything here is colorful and green. I sacrificed my life for this angel of a girl. She stares expectantly at me, but as I think of trying to sing, another face appears before my sister's.

Rue.

"_Katniss!"_

I squeeze my eyes shut, blocking her face from my view. Will these flashbacks never stop?!

"_Katniss! Katniss!" _Her voice cries to me in desperation, and the backs of my eyelids take on the green and brown colors of the arena. I'm back there, trying to save Rue in my head.

_It's a child's scream, a young girl's scream…_

Tears. They will never stop coming. I'll forever be living with what happened in the arena. I'll never escape.

"_You have to win."_

I never won. Peeta and I didn't win. We're losing everyday, losing more of our sanity.

"_Don't go."_

I have nowhere to go. I'm with Rue. I'm with the Cato, Clove, Glimmer, Rue, Thresh, Foxface…. I'm with the boy I killed from District 1, and the boy that died while we scrambled for the backpack. I'm with the girl that Peeta killed; I'm with boy with the crippled foot. I'm with the ones whose faces flashed in the clouds after everyday in the arena.

"_Rue's eyes have fluttered shut…"_

The ones that die are the lucky ones. The rest are damned to live with themselves.

"_Rue's cannon fires…"_

Everything is still and quite, just like that day.

"_Sing."_

"Katniss? Will you sing?"

I break from the prison my memories keep me in, and peer at Prim. She's not Rue, but she reminds me of her. Prim tilts her head to the side in the question. I don't want to sing Rue's song, but it's all that I can think of.

_Deep in the meadow, hidden far away_

_A cloak of leaves, a moonbeam ray…_

Prim's eyes look horrified when she sees my tears. My voice isn't soft at all, not like when I sang to Rue, not like when I sing to Prim when she is sick. It's rough and forced, and I turn the steaks trying to keep myself together. The one side is burned.

_Forget your woes and let your troubles lay_

_And when again it's morning, they'll wash away_

I wish they would wash away. I wish at night that all of this is just a bad dream, and when I wake up, we'll be back in the Seam I wish that I'd wake with Prim laying beside me, and my mother and father in the bed next to us. But my wishes never come true.

_Here your dreams are sweet and tomorrow brings them true_

_Here is the place where I love you….._

I can't continue, and Prim's arms wrap around me. I don't know when I became this person that needs to be held all the time. But I do. Gale holds me, and Prim holds me, my mother holds me, and Peeta holds me. He always holds me.

"I saw you on TV, Katniss. I saw you sing to that girl when she was dying…"

That girl. That girl is Rue. _And she reminds me so much of you_. I think.

"I'm sorry Katniss. I'm sorry for everything."

It's not her fault. I don't want it to be her fault. But it feels good to be apologized to. I wish President Snow would apologize. I wish Haymitch and Effie Trinket would apologize.

That's not fair. They're the reason I'm still here. But it's not a blessing now. _Who am I kidding?_ I think. It never was a blessing, and the future isn't looking bright either.

I should have eaten the berries. Gale would have taken care of my family. Peeta winning would have brought plenty of food and wealth into the district to get them by. I could have died, and this would all not be happening. I'd be safe from all this torment.

….but then I wouldn't be hugging my sister. They would survive if I had died in the arena, but perhaps that's all they would ever do. I don't want them to just survive. I want them to live.

I can't live. But I can help do what I can't do.

Prim squeezes me tightly, and I sigh.

I need a drink.

***

My mother protests when I take one of the bottles out of brown bag that Haymitch sent to us as a house-warming gift, but I ignore her. If I'm old enough to die because someone picked my name out of hat, then I can drink whatever the hell I want. There's got to be something in this bottle that can help me.

When my mother realizes that I am determined to disobey her, she pulls out a perfectly blown wine glass from my father's cabinet. She divulges the amber bottle from my hands and pops the cork out from the top, and fills about a fourth of the glass. That's not going to be enough.

She refuses to hand me the glass until we're seated at the table, and tells me that I must eat a little before drinking from it.

Prim sits across from me at our new mahogany dining table. She keeps looking at me with something I think is both concern and pity. I pity myself enough.

My mother has obviously tried to make our first night here a pleasant one. She's made a very large dinner. The only flaw is the steaks are slightly burned on one side, but my mother pretends not to notice. She's filled a serving bowl with the boiled spuds, and other with warm biscuits. The roasted apples have been seasoned with cinnamon, and a bowl of greens sits beside them.

She stabs the steaks with a long sharp dagger-looking tool, and sets one onto my plate before doing the same for Prim and herself. We pass around the vegetables, biscuits, and apples.

I stare at the glass of wine in front of me.

"Mrs. Mellark was over here this afternoon."

The comment makes me look up, and Prim has a secret smile on her face.

"She's a pleasant woman."

I snort. I had spared my mother the story of how that woman nearly turned me into the authorities for rifling through her garbage.

My mother glances at me. "She says she intends to have a bit of a party at their house this weekend."

A party? When was the last time someone had a party in District 12? Not since I've been born, I'm sure.

"It's an adult party. She says Peeta has a lot of homework to catch up on, so he won't be attending." She seems to have forgotten that it's actually Peeta's house. That house is a gift from the Capitol. As soon as Peeta pleases he can kick them all out. _Or just his mother. I don't see a reason his father and brother can't stay._ I'm not sure why I'm trying to facilitate what goes on in Peeta's house, but I do it anyway.

"Speaking of Peeta…"

Oh no….here it comes.

I knew at some point I was going to have to explain what exactly happened in the arena with Peeta. My mother knew enough to know that I had never had a particular interest in a boy, not even Gale. Prim would have noticed as well. I'm sure it shocked them to the core to see me kiss and coddle Peeta so many times during the Games.

I take a deep breath…and start to reach for the wine in front of me.

But I think of Peeta, with his mechanical leg, his hellhound of a mother, the heartbreak that he suffers so long as I ignore the bond that we shared in the arena.

He's so much stronger than me.

I push the wine glass away.

I'm not that broken. I can endure the pain.


	4. Rules of Manipulation

Hunger Strikes

By: Princess Ashley

AN: I own nothing.

I'm sorry this took so long, but I was having conflicting ideas for what should happen in this chapter, and I spent the weekend without my beloved laptop. And then I get back to school to find that I have a plethora of French homework, Persuasion test, a documentary that I have to film entirely in Japanese (yes, I take both French and Japanese, not fun, don't do it), and Anthropology project due Friday. How did I manage to put another chapter through? I have no idea.

On another note, I'm very happy with the influx of reviews for the last chapter. Wonderful feedback. I really appreciate it.

Btw, Trina Mason: Thank you so much for your review. I didn't get to read it until Monday with all the work I had to do, but thank you. Like I said before, I'm editing the stories myself. I'm terribly sorry you had to read through that. I know I get horribly distracted when I read typos in other people's work. But such is the life of a writer.

As for your specific comments, I have faith that they'll be remedied soon. After all, District 12 isn't exactly known for its fashion. Where would Katniss wear all those wonderful clothes? *hint*

As always, thanks to Lost in Believing, flyaway6, twilight fan, Miss Bliss03, Mandi, Kaley, LaughSpazm, and Leachlover36. Got some interesting names in there. Haha.

I'm really glad that everyone likes Gale. I really want him to be a likeable character and not the 'guy who's stealing Katniss from Peeta.' I'm pretty font of him, so I hope that I can draw him in a favorable light. Katniss must like him for a reason, right?

This one is shorter, but it's definitely up to quota, and hopefully you'll enjoy it anyway. =)

**Four: Rules of Manipulation**

I sit in my room in front of my dresser, brushing my hair. I found an excess of utilities in my bathroom, including the painful looking equipment that Cinna had used to style my hair to his liking during the Games. I have a feeling that my mother will know how to use them, but I'm much too embarrassed by our previous conversation to ask her at this moment.

Dinner had been awkward, and though I'm getting a better grip on my own feelings towards Peeta, I'm still shaky over what the relationship is. We're definitely not boyfriend and girlfriend. We definitely left the lovers façade in the arena. We're too close to be acquaintances. The only one I know to compare him to is Gale, but I've never kissed Gale. I've never slept beside him, and I've never been in complete survival mode around Gale. Gale had a sense of self-preservation that Peeta didn't have. Gale had to live for something. Peeta only wanted to live for me.

It occurs to me that at the Reaping, when Peeta squeezed my hand that he meant to tell me something. He meant to tell me that he wouldn't be the one to kill me; he would do everything in his power to help me win. I don't think Gale would do that. He wouldn't want to kill me. I wouldn't want to kill Gale. But we know too much about the world to let ourselves die. We would have stayed away from each other, and prayed that someone else killed us first.

I meet my own eyes in my reflection. They're narrowed in concentration.

_I stare at Peeta in disbelief as the truth sinks in. They never intended to let us both live. _

I remember the terror I felt. I had been so sure that Peeta would never try to kill me. I had let the doubt creep into me when I saw him pull the knife from his belt. I was quick to protect myself.

_Death would be easier…._

Death would have been easier than killing Peeta.

_I loosen the top of the pouch and pour a few spoonfuls of berries into his palm. Then, I fill my own._

I'd been ready to die in the arena. I remember never wanting anything more in that moment than for Peeta to live. I wouldn't have lived with myself if I had killed him, but at the same time, I knew that he felt the same way. I would have been able to carry on, but he wouldn't have. He would have killed himself. I'm sure of it.

I'd rather die myself than let Peeta die, and he feels the same about me. We are alike, him and I. Maybe not in the way that we've had to live our lives. But we both know that we would give our lives for someone else. I would have given mine for Prim. He would have given his for me.

I'd been ready to die with him. I'd hoped that we wouldn't have to. Since he didn't swallow his right away, he must have been thinking the same.

We are the same.

The question is, would I give my life for Peeta?

Sure I'd told him to kill me so that he could live, but had that been for him? Or was it because I wouldn't have been able to live with myself if I had?

I don't know.

Before I try to figure anything else out, I have to know what my answer is.

I have to see Peeta.

But before I can even get up, the doorbell rings.

I fly to my door, opening it and begin to race down the stairs, but my mother is already there.

"Why, Haymitch! What a surprise!"

I want to groan. The fondness I'd developed for him during and after the Games was beginning to fade as I finally remember why I had disliked him in the first place. Drunk, always drunk.

"And Peeta! How wonderful! Come in, please!"

Peeta? Peeta!

For some reason, I really want the brush on my dresser right now. I settle for running my fingers through my hair a few times, and making sure that it's not ruffled at all and is sitting neatly on my shoulders. _Why am I doing this?_

I've paused on the stairs. I can't see Haymitch or Peeta yet, but I can hear Haymitch and my mother coming towards me. In a few seconds, they'll see me on the winding stairs. I check my clothes. I'm in a pair of baggy black pants and a blue tunic. _Hell, I look like….me. _

Well, Peeta's never complained before.

"Katniss Everdeen!"

I look up, and Haymitch is grinning hugely at me. I scowl back. My mother gives me a stern look behind his back, but I don't care. What does he want?

Then Peeta appears at the foot of the staircase. His grin is soft, shy almost. I like his smiles. I grin back at him, and continue my decent. He's dressed nicely again, in dress pants and a button up.

"Hey there, love birds! Hate to interrupt the moment you seem to be having, but we've got important matters to discuss."

Haymitch's voice is very annoying…come to think of it, so is his foot tapping on my hardwood floors.

My scowl appears again as I turn my head to stare him down, but he's having none of it. His hands are gesturing to the kitchen table. _Don't even ask me if it's okay for you to barge into my house and demand an audience; it's fine._

Peeta's grin widens a bit, and he glances at Haymitch and then rolls his eyes towards me.

I stalk towards the kitchen and plop myself down at the head of the table. I figure this will make Haymitch realize the caste system in this house. I glare as he takes the other head of the table. My mother and Peeta sit on either side between us. My mother is appraising Peeta across the table. I know he notices, because he starts to blush.

"Well, now…" Haymitch's eyes dart around the kitchen, and his eyes fall on the brown bag that he gifted us with almost three days ago.

"I assume you two have done your thinking about our next big adventure coming up soon?" He glances at me. I take that to mean that he and Peeta have already spoken about this, whatever 'this' is.

I shrug.

"'Next big adventure' being your tour of the Districts?"

Oh. _That_ big adventure. I hadn't even thought about it. Haymitch better not be coming. It'll be hard to keep up my star-struck façade when I'm busy grinding my teeth.

"I'll have you know, Katniss, that your tour will begin in two days time, and despite what you think, you're still under heavy scrutiny. You're going to have to pull something out of a hat to make the Capitol believe that your stunt in the arena wasn't an attack." Haymitch says in a very accusing tone.

I'm almost taken aback by how serious he sounds. Over the past few days he's been doing nothing but drinking. But then again, it might help him with all the stress I seem to be instigating lately. But still, I thought I'd been home free. Apparently not, according to Haymitch.

"Lighten up, Haymitch. We put up a good front that last day with Caesar. What more are they looking for?" Peeta intervenes, frowning at him.

"We've been over this. Your lover has an unfortunate habit of unconsciously making jabs at the Capitol. They had to overlook it before. There was not a lot they could do in the arena, and even if they had done something, the audience would have protested." Haymitch explains. He has a way of amazing me when he's sober. Maybe it wasn't a fluke that he won the Games after all. _Not so unconscious_, I think. But if Haymitch knew that, I'm willing to bet all my lines from now on will be written on note cards for me to read from. I didn't miss the lover comment either, but from the look on his face, Peeta did.

"I'm telling you this because, believe it or not, I don't want Katniss to die." _There's news._ "I've worked this hard to get you two out of that arena alive, and I intend to keep you that way." _How thrilling._ "Having said this, I refuse to do this on my own. You are going to have to have an attitude makeover, Katniss."

I don't like the sound of that.

"You're a smart girl, but you're also stupid." He says, and I narrow my eyes. _I think….I resent that remark._ "You're going to have to try to overlook the fact that you despise the Capitol for the next month or so, because right now, they hold your life in their hands. If they want to, they can kill you. It won't be hard to work in an accident for the wayward love-stricken Hunger Games winner. It could be as easy as you spotting Peeta on the other side of the road and get hit by a hovercraft."

_That is easy…_

Peeta is looking at me worriedly, as is my mother. I know that as soon as Haymitch and Peeta leave, she'll be giving me a thorough talking to on how to play the damsel in distress. I'm not in distress; I'm stronger than that. I can take care of myself.

But taking on the Capitol was entirely different than taking on a bunch of bloodthirsty tributes in the Hunger Games.

I remember President Snow's cold eyes boring into me as he placed the broken crown on my head. I shiver unconsciously.

Peeta catches my eyes on my right. I see the concern in his eyes, and I try to reassure him, even though I'm not sure myself if I'm going to be okay. Once again, I'm fighting for my life. I start to concoct scenarios in my mind of all the things the Captiol can do to me if they find a reason to.

They could make me disappear…that seems cliché, but something tells me that they'd done that before. No one would think the Capitol would do that to their Golden Girl. I make a note to stay away from dark corners or wandering around by myself. They could hire a hit man, or just do it themselves. Maybe make an excuse that I was conspiring against them, and turn me into a 'District 13' case.

I feel a hand holding my own, and I look up to see Peeta leaning towards me. He rubs his thumb over the back of my hand, and it makes me feel better. He makes everything bad disappear when he looks at me like that.

"Ahem, again, sorry to interrupt the moment, but we have a crisis to attend to."

"Haymitch, I think we've got this." Peeta says, still looking at me.

"As much as I know you'd like to, you can't stay in a permanent lip-lock to keep her from blowing her cover—."

"We'll think of something other than that, Haymitch. Give us a day to think things through, come up with a strategy, and get back to you." Peeta's voice is authoritative and decisive.

"Peeta—."

"We know where to find you." Peeta ends the conversation, and Haymitch looks like he needs a drink. I hope Peeta has a good idea. He hasn't stopped looking at me since he butted into the conversation. I hear the chair scratching the floor as Haymitch makes to leave.

"It better be good, to. If you need me, I'll be at home, drinking." He announces. I can't see my mother, but I know she's looking between Peeta and I as we stare at each other.

"We need to talk." He says, and I nod. I break our contact to get out of my chair. I take his hand again to lead him to the stairs and up to my room. My mother's eyes must be bulging right now.

"DON'T DO ANYTHING I WOULDN'T DO!"

I grind my teeth again. "Goodbye, Haymitch!"

Peeta chuckles behind me, and I glare at him for encouraging Haymitch. He gives me a sly grin as I pull the door to my room open and close it behind us.

"I gotta tell you, Katniss. I think we're moving too fast."

I turn to him with an incredulous look on my face, but I can tell by the smile that, once again, he's joking. He and Prim might just be the end of me. I've had it with the innuendos.

"I'm joking. But you gotta admit that look is better than a scowl." He laughs, and I scowl for his benefit.

"I actually really wanted to talk to you though. We haven't talked since we moved in, and since we're gonna be spending about a month together anyhow, I thought we should get some things straight." Peeta announces. Once again, the similarities between us are starting to abound. "I think we should cool it off a bit, you know?"

My features go blank. What?

"We need to try to get them to focus on us personally. We'll tell them that the relationship isn't working, and we're taking a break. Then they focus on our lives individually."

No!

"It seems like the best idea right now. The Capitol needs to know that you weren't making a jab at them with the berries. You can draw up sympathy for yourself, and not just because of our 'tragic romance.'" _Why does he sound so cynical when he says that? _"You think?" He asks.

No, I don't think. Where is all this coming from? Peeta wants to…_discontinue_ the relationship? I had a list of possible outcomes when we finally had this conversation, but….just ignoring it? Killing it? Doing nothing? That was definitely not on my list.

Peeta stared at me in earnest, waiting for my reply. It _would_ make it easier if we just focused on our own lives, but is that I want? If we don't have a relationship, how am I ever going to know what I feel towards him? _Damn it! Trust Peeta to mess everything up._

"Yeah, that sounds good." I regret it the moment I say the words. _No! It does not sound good. What about me? Ever consider MY feelings, Peeta bread?_

He smiles his easy smile. "Good. This way, I won't be getting the attention that should be on you. Turn their focus to you and Prim, or the fact that your father died in that mine incident. How you've been taking care of your family on your own. The crowd likes having something to sympathize with."

_If you had any sympathy for me, you'd keep your mouth shut. _It's true. With every word that comes out of his mouth, I'm being dragged lower and lower into depression. I thought he wanted me. I thought he cared about me.

_He does care about me. He wants me to live. He wants the Capitol to leave me alone. He's doing this because he thinks this is what you want._

Is this what I want?

No, it's not.

"…..don't you think?"

"No."

"…..what?" I'm shaken when I hear Peeta's question. What's the question?

"…_This way it won't be awkward for you. I know you were just pretending in the arena, I understand now. I thought that this would be easier on you and you can focus on what really matters, don't you think?_"

"_No."_ _I say, decisively. _

"…_.what?"_

Peeta has a perplexed look on his face. I want to take it back, suddenly. This is too much too soon. I don't know what I feel towards Peeta, but it's strong, and it doesn't want to let him escape. Not this easily.

"No…." Why can't I talk? _Fill in the blanks, Peeta! You've done it before. Fill in the blanks!_ My thoughts scream at him.

"No _what_ Katniss?"

_He's going to make me say it._

I take a deep breath. This is going to take more guts than I'm used to having, which is saying something.

"No, Peeta. I don't want to focus on something else."

He seems to realize what I'm hinting at, and his expression turns stunned.

"I don't want to do this on my own. You're right. There has to be more to me than you and your….l-love for me." I struggle to get the word out. "I can do that, but please…. don't make me do it without you." I finish with a whisper. There's so much more that I want to say, but I feel like it can wait until later. I want to make sure he's listening. I can't look at him anymore, so I direct my gaze to my bare feet.

A finger under my chin pulls me back up, and Peeta's bellflower blue eyes are boring into me. I stare right back. His eyes will never try to hurt me.

His lips move, but I can scarcely hear the words that they form. I want him to kiss me. I was never so impatient before.

"I'm sorry. I thought you wanted space." He says, his sweet breath blowing on my face. He's been eating strawberries…. sugary strawberries. "I'll never make you do something you don't want to." Then, his lips curl into a smirk. "I was hoping it would turn out this way anyway."

I'm shocked. How does he continue to shock me?

"W-what?" I stutter. What's he saying?

"You wonder how I manipulate the crowd?' He smiles like a minx, and I can see the mischievous sparkle in his eyes. "I'm good at it. You think you know how good?" He leans his forehead against me. "I just did it to you." He chuckles. I want to slap him, and bring my hand up to do so, but he grabs it and presses his lips against my fist. He looks apologetic. "I'm sorry. I would have done it if that was what you wanted. I'm relieved you didn't though. Kind of like the berries?" He asks. He knows what I was trying to do. "Hoping for a reaction, but willing to go through with the threat anyway?"

We are alike. We are so alike, I could kill him in his sleep.


	5. Exploring You

Hunger Strikes

By: Princess Ashley

AN: I own nothing.

I need a break from seriousness. So this is me releasing some pent-up frustration. Plus I'm watching Sweeney Todd as well. You try being romantic while watching Sweeney Todd. It's challenging. Anyone else think that Antony looks like Clair Danes, kind of?

Lol.

PeeteKatniss: Alas, I cannot please everyone. Maybe you didn't like it because Peeta wasn't in it. Haha. Truthfully, it's one of those chapters that you have to write even if you don't want to. The wine scene will come up later, so I had to put that in there. It's supposed to be a bit of defining moment for Katniss, but like I said, I'll get into in a later chapter when it comes up again. =) VERY glad you liked Chapter 4 though. I DID like writing that one. I liked writing this one too…maybe there's a correlation? Lol. As for your question, I'm biased in the way that I think Peeta/Katniss should be together instead of Katniss and Gale…I get into fights with my friends over it. I feel like Katniss can learn more from Peeta, while Gale is a bit more of a brotherly type to me. My favorite couple is definatley P/K. Don't get me wrong, I ADORE Gale. In fact I may write a story about Gale and Katniss in the near future (just to see if I can do it haha) because I really like Gale's character. We'll see if I can't find a better pairing for Gale…

Trina Mason: She's frustrated because she's trying to admit her feelings and she feels like Peeta is manipulating her into saying what he wants to hear. She feels like he's toying with her a bit, but let's face it, she's been unknowingly toying with him for ages. Haha. I thought there was a little revenge in order. Plus, Peeta is a little insecure when it comes to Katniss, so I thought maybe a little show of his insecurity and his willingness to accept whatever she wants to do would be something that might bring it out of her, so to speak. =)

imaginingInspiration: I love your 'Revenge' story! =) thanks for the review! Glad you like it!

And GoddessOfCsilla, jtlw, yosely, BlueSea14, Miss Bliss03, LaughSpazm, and Lost in Believing, thank you so much for your praise! Music to my ears! Hope you guys enjoy this one. I worked hard. Haha.

**Five: Exploring You**

I've been having nightmares about the arena since I left it. Every horrible detail has been vivid in my mind, and I had resigned myself into thinking that they would never stop.

But this moment, though it reminds me so much of the Hunger Games, is the most relaxing and perfect moment I think I've ever experienced. I lay on my side in the big comfortable bed laden with silk sheets and large cloud-like pillows, and Peeta's arms wrapped securely around me. My back presses against his chest and every time he takes a breath, he presses even closer to me. His face lies in on the pillow behind me, his legs tangled with mine, and his breath tickles my neck.

He's fast asleep.

I had woken up around 10 PM. We had spent the day together yesterday, talking about us, about the things yet to come. I hadn't been able to keep my hands to myself, so I touched him, hugged him, pulled him close to me every time I had an excuse. I leaned my head on his shoulder, laid my palm on his cheek, looking deeply into his eyes. I wrapped my arms around him, pressed butterfly kisses on his neck, slapped him softly when he made a smart comment. He didn't seem to mind though. When I hugged him, he hugged me closer. When I laid my head on his shoulder, he would lean his own atop mine, and when I touched his face he kissed my palm. When I slapped him, he laughed tickled my sides with his long fingers.

And here he is, laid out beside me, his lips slightly parted, breathing steadily and peacefully. I wonder if I look at him the same way he looks at me. There's not way to know. Maybe I love him, but then I think it's too soon to tell.

I don't want to leave my bed. I want to stay in his arms indefinitely, but I'm slightly restless. I've never had so much time to just rest. It's the time that I'm usually in bed, but I don't feel like sleeping.

The white curtains sway with the wind in the night. I pull myself away from Peeta, careful not to wake him up. I walk over to the window and pull the glass up to look out. My window looks out into the forest behind the house. There are silver lanterns that outline a pathway through the woods. Prim had noticed it, and wasted no time in taking a long walk through it. I'm suddenly itching to be outdoors. I hadn't had proper exercise in days.

I think about waking Peeta up, but it seems he is already awake, as I hear a moan behind me. I turn to see Peeta stretch across the bed, his arms extend above him and his legs reach towards the end of the mattress. I see his shirt ride up his stomach as he does so. His head is thrown back; his hair is a ruffled mop from my pillow. I realize where my thoughts are going, and I cut myself off before I can go into it anymore. My face burns as he calls to me, and I keep my face looking in the opposite direction.

"Katniss? What time is it?" He yawns.

"About ten." I say. I'd never had those kinds of thoughts about a boy before. Any boy. Peeta and I have barely figured out our relationship and I'm having thoughts about….. no. I'm not.

I turn my head towards Peeta who seems to be rolling himself to the side of the bed, taking the sheets with him. What would he do if he knew what I was thinking right now?

"Ooof!" Peeta has fallen off the bed, and is wrestling with the sheets on the floor. He's losing. All his years of wrestling has not prepared him for my bed sheets. I blush again. _Bad!_

But I can't hold onto my bad thoughts for long, because the scene that Peeta makes has me weak in the knees with laughter. The sheet is wrapped around his head, and nothing but a tuft of blonde hair sticks out of the top. His legs are fighting for freedom and his left arm seems to be trapped as well. He's grunting trying to breathe, but he's going about it the wrong way.

I go to my knees beside him and begin to unwrap the sheet that is around his head. When I can see his face, he's completely flushed with the effort to free himself. His hair sticks in all different directions, and he's breathing hard. I smile fondly at him, and he smiles brightly back. "My savior." He says, and I grab his face and press my lips to his in a closed-mouth kiss. He sighs contently, and pulls me down on top of him.

I laugh as I fall onto my side. He turns to lean on his elbow; his hand supports his head as he looks down at me with a wry grin on his face. I stare up at him, and his grin widens.

And then I yawn.

Peeta's face screws up and he falls off to the side.

"_That_ was _not_ cool." He whines, and I'm confused for a moment before I remember, I haven't cleaned my teeth in over twelve hours. But for some reason, that makes me laugh as well.

Peeta hides his face. "What did I do to deserve this kind of punishment!?"

"Would you like that list chronologically?" I tease, and he spares me a pleading look. I smile and get to my feet, and pad over to the bathroom.

I don't think I'll ever get used to the electronics in my bathroom. It doesn't help that I've been technologically challenged for most of my life. All this stuff is supposed to make hygiene easier. Take my toothbrush, or lack thereof. What I have is a jar of fluoride tablets. I place one on my tongue, and let it gradually disintegrate any plaque or food particles on or between my teeth and tongue. It's feels very funny, and sometimes it tickles and I giggle a bit. The one time I allowed a giggle to escape, the air I started breathing caused the awful taste of the chemicals to go down my throat and I almost choked.

As soon as the chemicals go to work in my mouth, I'm struck with a strong desire to use the toilet.

The toilet has buttons too. But I can't figure out what they do. The buttons only have generic pictures on them, and I can't make out what they are supposed to portray. The chemicals are still working in my mouth when I decide to be risky and press one of the buttons. It can't be that bad. I reach to press the one that looks like rain coming from a cloud. I spare a look at the ceiling. The toilet can't possibly make it rain in my bathroom can it? What use would that be?

The button goes into effect. My eyes start to bug. _Oh my god. What the hell!!?_ I look at the buttons to see which is the stop button, but the pictures confuse me again. So I just sit there, while the toilet assaults me. I can't even say anything because of the chemicals, but I manage a moan, knowing that it will do me no good.

"Katniss? Are you okay?"

_Hell's bells and little Indians._ I'd heard my mother say that a lot of times, but I'd never used it myself. It seems appropriate right now.

I want to tell him to go away, but I'm a temporary mute. Instead, I make odd noises through my nose, hoping he'll get the hint and leave me alone.

"Do you need help or something?" He calls, and there's concern in his voice.

I'm certain he'd be rolling on the floor with laughter if he found out the reason for my distress. All the sudden, the spray beneath me switches spots, and I feel like screaming, and I'm sure I've gone cross-eyed.

Suddenly, the picture on the button makes sense. Rain is not coming from the cloud. The rain is going into the cloud. And the cloud is NOT a cloud.

"That's it, I'm coming in."

I finally feel the chemicals dissolving in my mouth, and I open my mouth. "NO!" I scream.

"What are you doing? You sound like you're in agony!"

_If you only knew. _I hear the door open, and I quickly grab the towel that hangs on a rack behind me to cover my lap as he steps in.

He narrows his eyes at me. "What's the big…." Then he seems to see something in my eyes, and his jaw drops.

Now his lips are pursing, and his eyes have gotten an unreadable sparkle in them.

Now his shoulders seem to be shaking, and his face is turning a blue hue.

And now he's laughing; one of those deep belly laughs that brings you to your knees. He's lying on his side with his arms wrapped around his stomach as his body is wracked with laughter. His face is turning red. So is mine, but for a completely different reason.

And the worst part: I can't even move. I can't kick him or anything. I have to sit here and take it. Sit here and wait until he's done laughing at me. All my warm and fuzzy feelings towards him earlier are going out the window. Peeta makes me bipolar. I'd say something, but he won't be able to hear me. He's laughing too loud.

After what seems like hours, he seems to have gotten a grip on himself, and slowly pulls himself to his feet. He's still chuckling when he looks at me again, and sees the livid look on my face.

"Sooo…. is this your first encounter with a bidet?"

I continue to glare at him.

He doesn't seem affected by it, because he walks over. I pull the towel more securely over me. He walks to the side with the buttons on it, and pushes the orange button with nothing on it.

My torment ends.

Peeta turns with a grin tugging at his mouth and walks out of the bathroom to give me my privacy.

I push the towel off my lap and proceed to dress myself. I bit my lip to contain the stream of curses that will no doubt wake the entire house if Peeta's laughter hasn't already. I walk to the sink to wash and sanitize my hands before continuing to my room.

Peeta is sitting at the end of my bed, and looks ready for the Great White Throne Judgment. Good. At least he knows he's in trouble. But when I look closer, his lips are twitching. My eyes narrow.

"I told you not to come in there." I say slowly. I'm hide my deep-set humiliation very well, it seems.

He sighs, and a smile breaks across his face. "If I hadn't come in there, you'd still be sitting there, not having a clue what to do."

He's not getting it. "There's this thing called privacy. I don't come into your bathroom while your…doing your business."

He laughs. "It wasn't about that. _You_ need to learn to ask for help."

"That's not something I'm comfortable asking for help with! I could have gotten it myself!"

Peeta's eyebrows rise. "You were in there for twenty minutes and _groaning._ What was I supposed to do?"

Once again with the thoughts. Does the Capitol have something that can wipe these things from my brain? Mind sweep or something?

I don't to answer that.

"Don't be embarrassed. The same thing happened to a friend of mine. Imagine how she felt. And there was a room full of boys in that instance." He nods at me.

The blush must have rose to my cheeks again. At least I'm not the only one.

Wait…_she?_ My heart almost stops. He has girls at his house?

"She's just a friend, you know. We hung out in school a lot." He's caught the unsure look on my face.

It hadn't occurred to me that Peeta might have had a girl friend like I had Gale. I'm insecure all of a sudden, my anger falls out of me. Is she pretty? Is she funny? Does she smile a lot, instead of scowling like I do?

"Man, I'm starving!" Peeta says as he falls back onto the bed, his hand on his stomach. My own stomach growls in return, but not for the same reason.

"We can raid the fridge. We've got some leftover beef if you want." I wonder if he notices the lost sound of my voice.

If he does he says nothing. He just follows me down the stairs like there's nothing wrong. I suppose if he takes it so lightly, then there's nothing to worry about. Maybe she's like Gale to him. But he'd never mentioned her before, so maybe not even that close. Suddenly I hate myself. I make Peeta put up with Gale when he sees him almost as much as he sees me, and I'm getting worked up over a girl that I've never met and he's never mentioned. If Peeta can handle Gale, I can handle that girl. Whoever she is. I wonder if I know her?

I open the fridge to pull out the plate of leftover steak. I pull a pan out from father's cupboard and throw a piece of butter in the bottom and turn the burner on. I start to cut the meat into slices as Peeta jumps up to sit on the counter beside me.

"I can do that. I didn't mean you needed to wait on me. I'm perfectly capable of making a meal for myself." He says, trying to catch my eye.

"It's okay." I smile up at him. "I'm hungry to. We both skipped lunch and dinner."

"In our defense, we were a bit distracted." He teases. I laugh a little. He always makes me laugh when I think I'm about to cry.

I fry up the meat and toast some bakery bread to make a sandwich for him. I do the same for myself. Peeta goes through the fridge and pulls out some orange juice. He walks to the table where I've situated myself with my plate in front of me.

"This looks great!" He says, and grabs the sandwich with one hand and stuffs it into his mouth. I smile a bit at his boyish antics, but I'm flabbergasted when he opens the carton of orange juice and proceeds to pour it into his mouth.

"Peeta! My family has to drink from that too!" I exclaim, appalled.

He swallows and grins. "You've got two more cartons in that monstrosity of a fridge. Plus: don't worry, I plan to finish it."

I grab it from him before he can make good on that promise. I've never seen a boy act so….unplugged. I mean, sure, I'm used to Gale acting that way. When we're in the forest, he tends to gulp down his flask in a matter of seconds. But we could never afford to do that on a normal basis. What if we run out? There are other people to consider…

Oh. I'm still not used to this 'unlimited supply' concept. Peeta seems to be clear on it, though. I've never eaten anything or drank anything without first considering how much I could drink while still leaving some for Prim and mother.

I stare at the carton in my hand, and Peeta is looking at me pensively. I spare a look into his eyes before I bring the carton to my own mouth and take several gulps.

"Hey! I'm the guest. Leave some for me!" Peeta cries, but he's laughing as he watches.

I put the orange juice carton down and take a breath.

And then I hiccup.

Peeta looks at me, shocked.

I've _never_ had the hiccups before.

"Hold your breath." Peeta commands, and I do. Then I hiccup again and gasp for air.

"Hang on." Peeta says, and rushes into the kitchen. My hiccupping is becoming faster. I'm not getting enough air because I'm laughing at the panicked look on Peeta's face.

He seems to find what he's looking for, and quickly brings a small pot over to me. He has a spoon in his hand and dips it into the pot and pulls out a small mound of sugar. There's no way I can control the hiccupping long enough to swallow it. But I try anyway.

_Hiccup!_ And there goes the sugar, all over Peeta's shocked face.

Once again, I'm laughing. The sugar is sticking to Peeta's face, and he's still frozen. _I'm going to die tonight. All that worry about the Hunger Games and I end up being destined to die because of orange juice and Peeta. _

Peeta splutters a bit, trying to get the sugar off his face. He glares at me as I snort at him and hiccup helplessly some more.

He grabs my hand and walks me outside. My knees are shaking with my laughs and the hiccups that wrack my body. They seem to be slowing down however, so I focus on controlling my laughter. Peeta's irritated face isn't helping though.

"Maybe some fresh air will calm you down. I'd turn you upside down and pour ginger ale down your throat if I thought it would do any good, and wouldn't ultimately end up on my face." He says, and I break out in another line of uncontrollable giggles.

He sits me down on one of the lawn chairs. "You'll excuse me if I need to walk off my humiliation, won't you?" His face is still irritated, and he walks away in the direction of the woods.

I want to call him back, but I can't if I want to have enough breath to stay conscious. I wheeze loudly, wrapping my arms around my stomach.

I hadn't meant to make him so irritated that he would leave. The path in the forest would intercept his own backyard if he walked long enough. He's going to come back, isn't he?

_Oh fine! He can barge in on me while I'm in the lavatory but he can't take my laughing over a little sugar!_ Boys. My hiccups are going slower now. Maybe this is what I need: Peeta to stop making me laugh so I can finally focus on controlling my hiccups. But still, I can't even see him anymore.

The silence around me starts to become really loud, almost deafening. The wind ruffles through the trees, but that is the only sound I hear. I don't hear footsteps from Peeta in the woods anymore. I don't hear any animals scampering across the grass. I don't hear any crickets chirping in the night.

The silence is overwhelming…

"BOO-GA-BOO-GA!"

"WHAAAAAAAAA!" I fall out of my chair and back up quickly to get a look at the silhouette that attacked me from behind, their hands suddenly coming down on my shoulders.

I recognize his laughter before I know it's only Peeta.

"You ASSHOLE!" I cry, running at him. He catches me and pulls me down with him as his back hits the grass, pinning my arms to my sides.

"Easy! That was the only way I could think of that would make the hiccups go away!" He cries over my wailing.

I stop. The hiccups are gone.

"You son of a … if you ever... do that again I'll ….. and….you…..jerk!"

His eyes are huge. "You kiss your mother with that mouth?"

"UGH!" I pound my fists into his chest, and he just takes it. I continue to scream at him until his hand grabs the back of my head and presses his lips onto mine. I struggle, but he's relentless. Plus his lips taste like sugar. Once again, Peeta has a way of thwarting all my other emotions in favor of laughing. I giggle against his lips, and I feel him smile against mine.

"There. I have your best interests in mind." He stares with his beautiful bellflower blue eyes at me. I can't help but smile at him. I smile more with him than I do with anyone else. Even Prim, though I love her so.

"So you do." I say. The intensity of this moment is all I can think about. His eyes starring straight into my soul, more perfect than another other boy I've ever met. So he's a bit rough around the edges. And he _has_ to come to grips with the concept of a personal bubble. But somehow, Peeta doesn't seem to have boundaries with me. I get mad when he crosses them, but that's out of instinct for me. Maybe it's me that needs to lighten up. Maybe I'm too distant. But I've never had anyone to teach me about what the relationship between a boy and a girl is. Peeta knows. Maybe he can teach me. Maybe he already is.

He's got that look in his eyes again, and he rolls over and pulls me to my feet. He looks around, as do I. The lanterns in the forest are twinkling with the flames inside them. He looks at me again, pressed against his chest with my hands in his. He smiles mischievously and lets me go. He walks to cemented porch and towards a device that I hadn't noticed before. He presses a button that makes it light up. He presses something else, and suddenly, there is soft pleasant music coming from hidden speakers on the landing.

He turns to me. "I found this at my house. Nifty, right?" He asks.

This music is much better than the screaming I'd heard yesterday. The girl singing has a soft voice that annunciates the lyrics in perfect harmony with the music in the background. It sounds very romantic.

Peeta walks towards me, and I see him almost in slow motion. The top buttons of his wrinkled shirt have come undone, and his dress pants cling to his legs perfectly. I don't want to look at how I'm dressed. The baggy pants and tunic are probably hideous right now. He doesn't seem to care though as he puts his arms around me, and leans his chin down onto my shoulder. I put my arms around him, placing my palms on his back and caress the area between his shoulder blades.

_If you could see that I'm the one that understands you_

_Been here all along you why can't you see_

_You belong with me_

_Standing by and waiting at your back door_

_All this time how could you not know_

_Baby…._

_You belong with me_

_You belong with me. _

_He's trying to tell me something. _I think. It seems like I'm the one always trying to tell Peeta something, but he's never really trying to tell me anything. I think he must hold a lot back. He gives me a lot of breathing room. But space is the last thing I want right now. I try hard to comprehend the perfect moments that Peeta gives me in excess.

That night I fell asleep to him running his fingers through my hair. When he kissed me after his fever had broken and I'd healed him of his blood poisoning. When I saw him for the first time since we won the Hunger Games, running to him and holding him tight. When he told me he understood my torment with memories of Rue and everything we'd done in the arena. When I'd confessed how I felt about him when he tried to end it. When he held me earlier today as we fell asleep together. And right now.

My time with Peeta is all in the moments. I don't think anyone would be able to tell what we mean to each other if they didn't know about the moments. We'd be friends, best friends, without the moments. The moments where he tells me he loves me with his eyes. The moments he stares at me like he'll never want to look at anything else. The moments where he understands me, and makes me feel better about my own feelings. The moments where he makes me laugh when all I want to do is cry.

These moments, where he just holds me and sways with me. When he always has the right timing. The moments where he makes me so angry I want to slap him but end up kissing him instead.

_Think I know where you belong_

_Think I know it's with me…._

These kinds of moments, where I know that's completely true.

***

I wake up…again. There is a pair of warm arms wrapped around me… again. I smile to myself. A giddiness that I'm unfamiliar with envelops me. I turn my face slightly, and Peeta snores softly behind me. I smile so wide that I don't think my cheeks are big enough to contain it.

"Katniss!!"

Ah. My mother. The perfect 'moment' breaker.

"You have a delivery!"

"I'll get it in a second!!" I scream at her, and Peeta stiffens beside me. I see him put a finger in his ear and twist.

"You have a very loud yell, Niss."

Niss? What is that? I ask Peeta that very question.

He smiles shyly at me. "I figure I should give you a nickname. Gale has one. I want one to!" He pouts. How temperate, he is. I'm reminded once again how much better he is than me when I think about how I reacted when he told me about his 'friend girl.'

"Niss?"

"Yeah. Well, I didn't want to call you Kat, you hate cats." He said.

When did I tell him that? I don't remember. Maybe he's just noticed me glaring at Buttercup every chance I get.

"Niss…." I weigh the name on my tongue. It sounds okay. It's not all that creative, but then again Gale's nickname came purely from the luck that he misheard me when I told him my name.

"I like it." I say, and he smiles, relieved.

"Katniss! Who are you talking to!?"

Peeta's eyes widen, and his entire body tenses beside me. He buries his head in my pillow and mumbles something incoherent.

I hear stomping towards my room and she flings open the door before I can throw my sheets over Peeta.

"KATNISS EVERDEEN! What is going on in here!?"

"He's got clothes on, Mo-_ther!_" I cry back at her. It's true. Both Peeta's and mine own clothes are completely intact.

"Peeta Mellark! I expected better from you!" She points accusingly at Peeta's blushing face.

"I-I…" He stutters.

"Don't listen to her, Peeta. Mother! We didn't do anything! We just got caught up in talking and fell asleep! It was _nothing!_" How wrong I am. How would she react if I told her that Peeta and I had danced until three in the morning right in front of her bedroom window before heading to bed, I wonder?

"Don't you talk to me like that, young lady." She hisses at me, but she seems to falter in her argument as Peeta slides slowly to the other side of the bed, away from me. "Do you swear that nothing happened? You just talked and fell asleep?" She asked.

Peeta bites his lip. He's not much for lying to adults, but he makes an attempt at least. "Yes ma'am. That's all. I would never try anything like that outside marriage, Ms. Everdeen. And Katniss wouldn't either."

_I wouldn't?_ My thoughts the night before come back to me, but I try really hard not to blush. Blushing would defiantly throw my mother into a rage. I had never had cause to think about… _that_ before marriage. It's wrong before marriage. But looking at Peeta, like I had last night, makes me wonder.

My mother narrows her eyes at Peeta's stiff form. Then she turns her glare towards me, and I glare defiantly back at her. How dare she make Peeta uncomfortable in MY house? She huffs, unsatisfied, and reminds me about the delivery before she leaves, slamming the door behind her.

I hear Peeta let out a huge sigh of relief. "I thought she was gonna _eat _me."

I snort at that conclusion, but nevertheless, I pull myself out of bed. I didn't bother changing into nightclothes before we went to bed, and Peeta's still in his outfit from the day before. The dress pants don't seem quite so dressy anymore.

I wonder about all my pretenses concerning pre-marital conduct. No sex before marriage. None! But I can't deny that Peeta is quite a good-looking guy; one of the better-looking ones that I'd seen anyway, now that I think about it. I wonder about how many girls had crushes on him in school; at least a few, surely. I look at Peeta.

_Well I can't be expected to control my thoughts when I'm looking at _that_ all the time. _

Peeta has thrown his arms behind his head, arching off the bed in a stretch. His knees are bent and his chest and back form a plank-like position. His shirt is riding up again, and the loose buttons under his collar give me a pretty good look at his chest. There were still a few scratches from the games, but other than that, not bad. He wasn't terribly built like Cato, but he was well formed. No ripped abs, but very toned. He had pretty sculpted arms, nothing too ostentatious though. His body reminded me a lot of Gale's. I'd seen more of Peeta's body in the arena, but I didn't notice it then like I do now.

His eyes are on me, and I blush and turn away. I also wonder… does he think about me like I do about him?

Peeta follows me as I trudge groggily down the stairs. The early-morning fight with my mother did nothing to help me wake up, and my confusing thoughts are making me more irritable. I check the clock in the living room. One forty-five PM. Beautiful.

The delivery turns out to be a delivery _truck._ A special delivery truck, and it seems like they have a delivery for Peeta too. I see a truck identical to mine at Peeta's house across the quad.

The man walks up to me with what looks like a plastic box. He holds a pen out to me and tells me to sign on the line. There is a small screen and I sign, amazed as my actual signature appears on the screen as I write it. He takes the box and clicks his fingers.

A group of three men start to carry in sheets of plastic with metal hooks hanging out the top.

"Where to?" The man asks.

I'm about to tell him that I have no idea what he's talking about when Peeta answers for me. "Up the stairs, take a right and straight down the hall." He says.

I ask him what they're doing as two more men charge past us with long boxes and more plastic wrap. "Haymitch told me that Portia and Cinna would be sending clothing for our tour. Can't show up in the ordinary clothes of District 12, now can we?" He scoffs.

Cinna! How I miss him! "Will they be with us when we leave?"

"They'll be meeting us when we get back to the Capitol. We start at the Capitol before heading to District One on Monday. District Two three days afterwards, and then Three, and so on."

I see Prim at the top of the stairs, gazing at the covered clothing that the men carry past her, and then stares at me in envy.

"Can I have those when you're done?" She asks.

I laugh at her. "Please! Take all of them away!"

Then Prim's eyes travel from mine to Peeta's. I see the smile on her face, and I mentally groan. This is so not good.

"Are you Peeta, then?" She asks.

He walks closer to the stairs to get a better look at her.

"I am! And you're Primrose." He says.

She smiles at him. "Prim." She walks down the stairs towards him, and in the back of my mind, it reminds me of a Romeo and Juliet moment.

_Absolutely not!_

But Prim reaches him, and her eyes are slightly red. "I wanted to thank you for everything you did in the arena."

Peeta smiles at her, his eyes squinting, trying to see something in her, I think.

"I saw you protecting her from the others. You kept her from going to the Cornucopia and getting killed. You protected her from that District Two guy after the tracker jackers. And you could never sleep because you were always worried about her. You would have given your life for her."

Peeta stares at her with something akin to wonder, and I know that he sees what I see when I look at her. He's seeing the way her eyes change colors when she speaks about something she's passionate about. The way her skin seems to shine, and the way she resembles everything that an angel should be.

Prim looks at me, before turning to look at Peeta again. "You know…she cares about you to. I don't think even she would notice, but she looks at you that way. She looks at you like my father looked at my mother. Even in the arena when there was so much else to care about. In the cave, I saw it. I don't think you saw it, and I don't think she did either. But I did. I know Katniss. She cares about you. She would give her life for you, too."

Peeta likes listening to her. A smile is spreading across his lips. I wonder what he's thinking.

"I like you, Prim." He says, and his smile turns sly.

She giggles. "I like you, Peeta bread."

He chuckles and raises his hand to Prim's small head and ruffles her curls before pulling her towards him. He hugs her affectionately, and she hugs him back. He looks at me over her shoulder, and his smile widens. I smile back.

Prim does know me.

***

WHAAA! My eyes hurt!!! It's 3:09 in the morning!!!

*pouts*

BTW: The toilet scene, the orange juice and hiccupping, and the dancing….that can be accredited to my boyfriend, because he pulled all that crap on me when we first started dating. Haha. Jerk off. 3


	6. The Capitol Ruins Lives

Hunger Strikes

By: Princess Ashley

AN: I own nothing.

Soooo… I actually got a flame on my last chapter. That's a first, but I suppose everyone needs at least one. I feel like I should address that one first, though, if that person is still reading…

Silea: I've never actually seen High School Musical, so I really can't make a case against it, but there's definitely not singing going on in this story. As for the reason for the relatively carefree nature of the first few chapters, I thought that going back to District 12 would be a bit of a carefree time for them before reality set in. Sort of a 'calm before the storm', if you will. Rest assured, it won't be like this the entire way through. I wouldn't be able to justify that. And her actions definitely WON'T go unpunished by the Capitol… just not this soon in story. And as for electricity… well I suppose the Victor's Village would be more adept at that kind of thing? I mean, it would hardly be luxurious if it didn't have electricity or computers or anything of the such. And the card's there as an asset of money… I'm sure that they would want to buy things outside of District 12. It's not like they can't travel… it's kind of a wait and see kind of thing right now. I can't incorporate everything into the first five chapters. I'm kind of aiming at dragging this out. So, thanks for the input, but I think some of the thoughts were a little premature. Keep reading, if you want. You'll see.

Lost in Believing: I know. Woe is me. Lol

PeetaKatniss: That sucks. I wanna read the whole thing, dang it! Yes, I was trying to be a bit more like me, but trying to keep it real at the same time. It's a little more interesting writing it when I can incorporate my own stuff in there as well. =)

Trina Mason: Thank you. You're becoming my beta reader, it seems. Lol. Like I included in the note, it was a little break from all seriousness, just because keeping the drama is a bit nerve wracking for me. But fanfiction is good practice for me. I'm an English major, so I need some sort of outreach going on. Glad your still reading!

Zenykat: I really didn't think I needed to include that part in those scenes… I haven't forgotten about it, I just didn't think it was necessary to bring it in there. Oh well. Haha, I might be really weird for saying this, but there is something hot about a mechanical limb….it might be just Luke Skywalker though in the Third Star Wars Movie…. Lol.

Thanks everyone for all of your feedback!!

**Six: The Capitol Ruins Lives**

_I run through the wilderness outside of District 12. The trees are whipping around me and my leather-clad feet break the leaves on the forest floor. I'm running out of breath. I want to stop, but the wizzing sounds behind me are gaining on me. _

_I peer over my shoulder. Hovercrafts as far as the eye can see zoom towards me, and silhouettes rise out of them, but I see nothing but narrowed red eyes and snarling white teeth. _

_I stare forward again, and then come to a complete stop. _

_Flowers. A poppy field lies before me, and suddenly I feel calm and relaxed. I see faces in the field; smiling faces. _

_Rue. She beams at me, holding a bouquet of flowers, gesturing me forward. Beside her stands…_

_The boy from District One. His smile glitters with the sunset behind him. Has he forgotten that I am the one that killed him? Thresh stands behind Rue, with a hand on her shoulder. His face isn't the tense scowl that I'm used to seeing. It's soft, and his lips relax his face into an almost thoughtful look. He stares directly at me._

_I hear laughter coming from my right. I gasp as more familiar faces appear before me. _

_Glimmer. Beautiful Glimmer with her long flowing blonde locks and startling green eyes that glow even from a distance. She sits in the field with others from the Districts. They sit and laugh together, as if they were never put in an arena to kill each other. Clove, Foxface, the boy I fought for the pack, the girl who made the fire, and the rest sit in a circle. A second later, Rue, Thresh, and the District One boy go to sit with them._

_Even Cato lies on his back, slightly away from the rest of them. His eyes stare into the purple sky. _

_And Peeta makes them laugh as he jokes with the group, with one arm slung around Rue. _

_I make a move to join them, but suddenly the hovercrafts swarm around me. I hear the hoots and cries and chatter of a crowd around me, but I see nothing. I try to call for help, but my cries are silent, and the roar of the invisible crowd shields their ears. They don't even seem to see me. Then they all collapse, their eyes falling closed, and they are buried beneath the blossoms; a perfect graveyard of flowers. _

_And the crowd goes wild. _

When I finally wake, my sheets are covered in sweat. My breath comes in quick gasps and I glance at the clock next to my bed.

3:48 A.M.

I lean back against the comfort of my pillows, and try to catch my breath. The dream had been vivid, and the faces that have haunted me since I left the arena swarm around in my mind. Cato, Rue, Thresh, Glimmer, Foxface, Clove… Peeta….

They look happy. I hope they are happy. The hell that is Panem would hardly be worth it if we didn't end up happy. If we're miserable in the afterlife as well, what's the point in sticking it out in this place? Even if you have a comfortable home and plenty of food and money to do with what you wish? Is it really worth the sacrifices you have to make to acquire it?

I sigh. No, it's really not. I had been happy to hunt for my food, living in the ignorance of what it _really_ takes to survive. I could have hunted with Gale and provided for my family till the end of my days, and never regretted a second of it.

But the Capitol has it's way of complicating things.

I hear a knock on my door. I frown. Who could possibly be up this early?

"Come in?" I whisper, unsure.

The door opens, and a small figure slips in.

Prim.

She walks softly to my bed, her small frame clad in a long white tunic that falls to her knees. Her eyes glow in the light that shines from my window.

I move over to one side of the bed as she climbs under the covers, pulling them close around her face as she peers at me through her blonde bangs.

"Were you having another nightmare?" she asks. "I heard you gasping."

I nod. "They're nice at times. But when I wake and think about them, I realize that they really are nightmares." I try to explain, but Prim frowns.

"I don't understand."

I sigh, and turn onto my back.

"Tell me about them." She asks.

I hadn't told anyone about my nightmares, but Prim sleeps in the room next to me. I'm sure she can hear me when I cry out in my sleep. This is the first she's asked about them though.

"You know the hovercrafts that the Capitol has?" I ask, and I feel her nod beside me. "They chase me through the forest where Gale and I used to hunt. But there are so many of them, they blacken the sky." I re-account the tributes in the poppy field, happy and relaxed. "Maybe I see them in heaven. Maybe the poppy field is heaven, and all of them are happy." I say.

"Why would Peeta be there?" asks Prim.

I shrug. "I don't know."

"What did you do, Katniss?"

My eyes narrow. "What do you mean?"

"What did you do to make the Capitol chase you?"

My heart pounds in my chest. I feel sick to my stomach, and a sweat breaks on my forehead. She watches me with concern in her eyes. Sometimes I forget how smart she can be, even through her innocence.

"I buried Rue in flowers." I whisper. "I made the death of a tribute more real and less like the mere losing of a game." Prim says nothing. "I gave Peeta the berries that would kill us. If we would have taken them, then I would have deprived the Capitol of having a winner. The crowd would have protested, and the Capitol would have been ridiculed for their failure to satiate the people's entertainment." I grind out the last bit. "I would have deprived the Capitol of its control over us. For the moment, I had the control."

Prim sniffs next to me. "What are they going to do to you?"

I look turn look at her, and see tears glittering in her eyes. "I don't know. If they chose to do anything, it will be during the tour." I guess.

Prim grasps my hand under the covers, entwining our fingers. "Don't go Katniss. You can't go. They can't make you go." She stumbles over her words.

I smile at her. "Yes, they can. But please don't worry. If I don't give them any more reasons to doubt my intentions, they won't do anything against me. They won't be able to justify that." _I hope_.

Prim's tears make me feel bad. But I only have one more night in my house. Tomorrow I'll be gone, and she won't hear my nightmares anymore. All she'll see is my smiling face on TV.

***

Once again, I find myself in my room running a brush through my hair. The clothes that Cinna sent me fill up my closet completely. They're still incased in the plastic, and the wooden boxes that he sent lie stacked on the floor.

My mother and Prim had gone through the clothes the day before. They 'ooh' and 'ah' over the garments, but I don't seem to be able to muster up enough excitement to join them now as they picked out the clothes they wanted me to pack.

"I loved the clothes they gave you while you were in the games, Katniss!" Prim cries.

She had fallen back to sleep quickly enough after our talk in the early morning. She sends me grave glances when she thinks I'm not looking, but she tries to keep the mood light. I suspect she does this for my benefit, but she should never have to keep strong for me. I'm the one that needs to be strong for her.

She holds up one of the garments to her torso. The top looks to be made of the same material as the dress that Cinna gave me the day after the Games, when he wanted to make me look as innocent as possible. It seems I'll be sticking to that image while on the road. "Can I try this on?" She asks.

"Go ahead. It'll probably look a lot better on you than me." I say, and I know it's probably true.

My mother is muttering to herself about the proper way to pack the clothes without wrinkling them.

Cinna hasn't left us without instructions, however. He included a card on one of the boxes; a letter to me.

_Katniss, _

_You'll find all the clothes that I have picked out for you during the tour in the boxes. The boxes each have numbers on them for what you'll wear during the interviews and press conferences at each of the Districts. I wanted to send them to you initially so that you can try them on. No doubt you've put on a least a little weight since you've arrived home. _

_There will be some time when you arrive at the Capitol on Sunday for us to alter them a little bit, but hopefully just about everything fits well. _

_The clothes in the plastic are for you, however. There is time in between the conferences at each of the Districts for exploring. You can pick whatever you wish to bring with you. But the clothes in the boxes are not to be moved from the boxes unless you are trying them on. These clothes wrinkle very easily. Try to keep them tidy. _

_If there is anything else you should need, please do not hesitate to call on me. The number is 0-09-2274865. _

_Remember: The tough part is over, but for now, please tread carefully. Don't provide any material the Capitol can use against you. _

_Good luck my girl on fire. _

_-Cinna_

I smiled at the endearment when I read it, and I really can't wait to see Cinna. But it wasn't long after I finished the letter than the truth began to set in.

By this time tomorrow, I'll be on a train back to Capitol. I'll be back on a pedestal, watching my back every day for the next month to come. The brief bliss that I had experienced when I arrived home at not having to face the cameras and keep up my innocent façade started to fade away. Now here I am, running a brush through my hair, watching my family laugh and flaunt my new clothes that remind of all the reasons that I have to fake who I am. That I've put myself in danger for the few moments where I felt that I was above the Capitol, proving to them that they didn't own me.

"Oh, you _must_ take this one, Katniss." My mother waves another top to my attention. "I think this will look so flattering on you." An innocent white flowing tunic with a fitted empire waistline shimmering with pearls flutters into my view. I figure that all the clothes that Cinna sent me would be about the same. Light colors, nothing too ostentatious, nothing horribly clingy, and all designed to make me look like an innocent little girl.

I wonder what Peeta's angle will be, and then I remember that Peeta doesn't _need_ an angle. Peeta committed no crime against the Capitol. He was the star-crossed lover that fell under the spell of the rebellious Katniss. I thank Peeta for keeping me protected this long. If he had died in the arena, I might not even be here to talk. The Capitol might have done away with me the moment Peeta swallowed. I gulp.

Peeta left not long after his exchange with Prim. I don't know one person that has met Prim and not liked her immediately. Peeta had fallen under her spell just as easily as everyone else. My sweet little lamb of a sister.

I watch her twirl around in another one of my outfits. A cream-colored layered skirt with a sleeveless silver top that shimmers as she spins and her eyes sparkle with laughter. It strikes me that _this_ is the image that I need to achieve to throw off my critics. Prim embodies the sweet smiles, the soft laughter, the playful innocence, and gentle nature that I have had so much trouble achieving. I shake my head at the irony that I actually need to take lessons from Prim on survival.

I smile suddenly. Maybe this will be okay. Maybe I can pull this off.

"Katniss, you'd better try this on. You might have put on some pounds since those people last took your measurements."

I raise my brow and look down at myself. I hadn't put on much weight. I acknowledge that I've begun to fill out slightly as a result of a week of plenty to eat, but I don't think I've gone up a size, by any means.

Nevertheless, I become my mother's doll for the afternoon she spends packing me up. The cases that Cinna sent with the clothes are perfect for keeping the clothes wrinkle free, and my mother sets aside an outfit for me to travel in tomorrow: A white sleeveless top with a cream-colored billowy skirt that falls almost to my ankles. Once again… innocent.

By the evening, everything is perfectly packed and waiting in the front room that we call a dining room, but we haven't used it yet. The wooden boxes are stacked and the cases with all the rest of my clothes lie beside them.

Gale arrives around seven after we eat. His smaller siblings immediately take to the television with Prim to watch some show that seems to amuse them. They giggle loudly at the flashing screen while my mother settles on one of the couches to watch over them.

Gale glances at me. I smile and lead him outside to the patio. The sun sets behind the trees in the wilderness, and paper lanterns light the path through the forest. It's an almost romantic sight, but I feel awkward with Gale standing beside me. He doesn't look awkward though, so maybe it's only me that notices.

He breathes deeply beside me. It's not a happy sigh. It's a tense one. "Feel like taking a walk?" He asks, but he's already heading towards the forest. I follow behind him as he starts down the lit pathway.

His feet crunch the leaves on the ground.

"You're leaving tomorrow." He says, and I nod, unsure what else to say. His eyes look forward.

"You know, there's something I feel like I should tell you…" He trails off.

I look at him, but he keeps his eyes forward. His jaw is tense.

"I told you that I thought we'd be able to make it, you know, on our own? If we were to ever get out of here?" He continues. I nod, unsure where this is going.

"Well, I know you haven't been in town for a while… but things are getting better." He looks at me with a mysterious intensity. "People have food now, Katniss. They haven't had hope like this sense Haymitch. It helps that two tributes won the same year." We're nearing one of the other houses in the quad. The lights are dark due to the lack of inhabitants. I wonder if my own house looked that looming and decrepit before we moved into it.

"You studied economics. The Capitol keeps sending food to fill the stores, the prices are going down, people can actually afford to buy the food and the bakery bread now." I had wondered if the baker would keep his job at the bakery, even though the family no longer needs the money. I suspected he would keep it because even though Peeta would never dream of kicking his family out, even though I wish he would do something about his mother, Mr. Mellark wouldn't want to rely on his son for his own well-being.

"But that comes with consequences for people like us." Gale continues. "I caught several hares the other day but I could hardly find any buyers. They can afford better meat than what we hunt." He stops to look at me.

Of course. No one would want starving hares when they could afford go to the store to buy a honey-baked ham.

"The second my mom gets out of her stupor, she's going to send me into the mines, Katniss. This was my last year to be able to go into the Hunger Games. I don't qualify for the tesserae anymore. Soon people will not need to buy game from me. It's getting better for almost everyone except those who don't have jobs."

Another reason the Games ruin lives, even those lives that didn't get thrown into the arena. Poor Gale will have to work in the mines just like the rest of the able-bodied men in District 12. My heart clenches at the thought of handsome, strong, funny Gale coughing and sweltering below ground as charcoal and dust invades his lungs and blackens his skin.

I wish I could ask Gale to just live with my family and I, and never have another worry or care, but he would never. He cares too much about his siblings to leave them.

"I'd do anything for my family, Katniss. But I can't go into the mines." His determined voice startles me. His eyes are hard and his fists are clenched as he begins to trudge through the wilderness again. "It's easy for that low-life to send me down into the ground without a care but if something were to happen to me like what happened to my father" my own jaw clenches now, "then there will be nothing for them. They'll starve while the rest of the District feasts."

That's going overboard, but it's relatively true.

"I have to leave here, Katniss."

My eyes widen after that declaration. Was I wrong about the extent of what Gale would do to help his family survive?

"Easy, Catnip." He says when he sees my expression. "Not now. Maybe not even for a while. But I'm going to leave here. Sooner or later."

I don't know what to say. Gale… leaving? A life without Gale seemed next to impossible. How would I live without Gale making me laugh, giving me advice, being my rock, my…

Oh, God. Not again.

"It's nothing you need to worry about right now, Catnip." He places his hands on my shoulders, misinterpreting the flood of thoughts running through my head. I feel sick, like I'm digesting month old meat that's been laying in the sun; like I've been picked to be thrown into the Hunger Games once again. I fight to keep my dinner down.

"KATNISS!" He shakes me out of my revere.

I blink, his eyes are right in front of me. I had fallen so quickly for Peeta's words the other day… spent a day with him, feeling more carefree than I ever was. Gale's here now, bringing me back to a reality that I don't want to be in. A reality that I've lived in for my whole life. The reality that I would never be able to survive in without him.

Suddenly I wish I'd swallowed those berries. I long for that day like longing for water in a drought.

"Where will you go?" I gasp out. I'd done a good job at keeping my tears to a minimum lately. I don't know how I'll hold up this time.

"I don't know. It's not like I'm useless." He needlessly defends himself. He seems almost offended that I'm worried about him. "I could find something to do. I've been researching different Districts that need stronger guys. Even the Capitol needs guys that can move things. I'm not opposed to manual labor, you know. I won't be one of those big moneymakers or anything frivolous. But there's got to be something better out there than working in these blasted mines."

I agree with no frivolity. I can't picture Gale as one of those big-shot Capitol boys with purple hair and make-up. Suddenly I have a dreadful image of Gale and Caesar Flickerman standing side-by-side with power-blue hair and matching suits. I shake my head. No good.

"I'm just saying… I'll find something. But I'll need your help."

I raise a brow at him. Why on earth would he need _my_ help?

He qualifies when he sees my doubtful look. "I mean, you have connections in the Capitol now." I scoff, and he frowns at me. "I just need to talk to someone who would know what kind of things they're looking for around there, you know?"

"Why don't you run naked across the Districts screaming 'The Capitol Can Eat My Trousers'? They can cut your tongue out and you'll be a good little Avox boy for the rest of your life, waiting on tributes. They seem pretty well taken care of." I'm not sure why I'm giving him a hard time, but the scathing remark leaves my mouth before I can stop it. I'm almost insulted that after all his remarks about how much he hates the Capitol that he would even consider going and working for them.

He sighs at me. "I knew you would be difficult."

"Why do you want to work for the Capitol? There are other things to do around here besides work in the mines—"

"Like what? I'm open to suggestions." He folds his arms over his chest.

I really don't need this right before I leave to my death for a second time.

"I don't know, Gale, okay? But there are rules against leaving your District! You can't just…. Move!" I cry at him. Am I being selfish if I tell him that I don't want him to leave me?

"I know there's paperwork involved, but I'll cross that road when I get to it. Do you really think I can stay here though? If I go to the mines, that's it. That's all I'll ever be. A miner, like every other guy in this place. It's what everyone expects me to be! I might as well sign my own death warrant and tell them to blow me up! I'm not _you,_ Catnip! I don't have the rest of my life set for me! I don't know if I'll be able to eat in a week, or if I'll even be alive in a week. They could catch me hunting" he lowers his voice to an almost whisper "and I could be dead. I can't live like this forever." He finishes, his voice hard and his eyes boring into mine.

I already know all of this. I might have once thought that Gale and I could have spent forever hunting and foraging together in the woods and been perfectly happy. But the Hunger Games threw in a whole bunch of other variables that I hadn't accounted for before.

Damn the Capitol. I want to scream it from the mountaintops.

"I almost wish I could go to the Capitol with you, just to get a feel for what I'm up against."

I almost wish I could kick him. I might if I knew he wouldn't kick me back, and harder.

"Are you allowed to bring someone with you?" He asks suddenly, his eyes alight. "Have they told you anything?"

"I suppose I could stick you in one of my dress boxes, but you have to promise not to wrinkle them." I mumble, not being serious at all. It's actually a stupid suggestion because no human being could fit into one of those boxes, unless they had the circumference of a pencil.

He glares at me. I sigh. "I don't think so Gale. Haymitch didn't really say anything about what I'm allowed to do during the tour. He was busy giving me a run down on all the things I'm _not_ allowed to do. Don't speak about the Capitol, unless it's to give compliments. Don't talk to the Capitol officials unless they ask you something first. Don't look at the Capitol officials unless you have a huge innocent smile on your face. Don't even think about the Capitol in a less than friendly manner. You never know, they might be able to read minds." I ramble on, trying to turn him off.

It's not working. His face just gets more contemplative as I go along.

"Oh, would you look at that! We're at Peeta's house!" I cry in relief. Maybe I'll be able to take his attention elsewhere. I could use a dose of Peeta's humor to make me feel less like I'm falling apart.

But Gale's not looking at Peeta's house. He's looking at the mansion next to Peeta's. Haymitch's.

No.

"I wonder…"

I wish he wouldn't.

"Katniss!"

I turn to see Peeta at his back door, staring at Gale and I. Gale looks at Peeta briefly, before turning his head back towards Haymitch's house.

Peeta walks towards us, a somewhat delighted look on his face.

"What are you guys doing back here?" He asks. He nods at Gale, his smile still in place. It doesn't look forced at all. Neither does the one that Gale answers back with.

"We were taking a walk. I've never been through this whole path before. It's a healthy walk, you know. Lots of… nature…" I trail off. Gale and Peeta have odd looks on their faces as they gaze at me.

My eyes narrow. I hate them.

"So, you all ready to leave tomorrow?"

Gale starts up a conversation with Peeta like I'm not here. I'm silently pleading with him to stay silent about the whole 'leaving' thing.

Peeta nods and explains how his mother made him try on every outfit and then consulted with a few of her friends before giving the thumbs up or down on each one. I'm appalled that the woman actually has _friends_.

Gale and Peeta are laughing about the antics of the women, and stuff only boys would be able to relate to.

The difference between them is astounding. Gale with his ivory skin, dark hair and stormy grey eyes; Peeta with his tanner complexion, ashy blonde hair, and bellflower blue eyes. Like night and day, those two.

"He didn't say anything about it. I mean, as far as I know, the stylists are the only ones that are accompanying us on the trip. Even Haymitch isn't coming."

Stupid Gale. He _had _to say something to Peeta.

Gale frowns, but doesn't look quite as defeated as I'd hoped. _This is Gale. _I tell myself. _If he wants something, he'll find a way to get it. _

But this is far from setting up snares in the forest to get food for supper. This is escaping from District 12, going against the Capitol. This is getting up to my level with the berries stunt.

I shutter to think my scenario with Gale ending up as an Avox boy might come true. Tears almost escape, but I stifle them while Peeta and Gale continue to talk. Gale asks questions about the Capitol, and Peeta gives better answers than I can. He was actually paying attention during that time.

I wander up to Peeta's porch. The pool behind Peeta's house glitters in the lights, reflecting the beautiful clear blue sky above. I take a seat in a chair, and lay back all the way, folding my hands over my stomach.

No matter how I manage to relax, like clockwork, something comes up that makes me sick again.

***

Edited: 11/19/08

Anyone else going to see Twilight this Friday? =) Midnight showing BABEH!!


	7. Beatings Never Cease

Hunger Strikes

By: Princess Ashley

AN: I own nothing

I suppose you want an explanation?

….

Okay well. I have one. Trust me. I won't convey all of it, but the gist is this:

I'm a college student, and as such I'm required to make above a certain GPA so I don't get on academic probation…

Well, this isn't my semester. I'm at a big party school this year and it's really full of distractions, including fanfiction (for me anyway), and my grades weren't looking so hot. So I put myself on lockdown until I could get my grades back up. If I don't have a 3.3 GPA, I can't study abroad in Japan. Simple as that. And 3.3 at NCSU is not easy. So bear with me please!!!

On top of that I had pink-eye and my glasses weren't up to date on the prescription so I was temporarily blind for two weeks, and had to keep going to classes until I was certain my eyes were okay to wear contacts again. *sigh* Stupid Health Center. Those people are out to sabotage me.

But the good news is, I'm done with this semester after tomorrow! And I'll update again before Christmas!

Please bear with me… I'm really trying… =( I'll answer reviews at the bottom!!

Seven: Beatings Never Cease

"Now, mind your manners and don't do anything you'll regret later." My mother holds me close, and whispers advice into my ear. I almost roll my eyes at some of her suggestions; Especially the ones that concern Peeta. I don't think I'll be able to look at him for the next few days without blushing at least a little bit.

"I promise I'll come back in one piece." I say.

I pull Prim into my arms. She spent most of the morning crying, but through my constant reassurances, she finally came around.

I don't have a lot of time with my mother or Prim, so I go through all the specifics. 'I love you', 'take care of yourselves', 'Don't leave Prim, Mom', 'Don't get fat, Prim', and other important things.

The cameras are back, snapping pictures at every bat of my eyelashes. I had hoped that maybe I would have one more day without them, but apparently not. I try to keep the annoyed look off my face as another photographer sticks his camera in front of me. I think I'll have a permanent 'click' in my ears for a few minutes after we get on the train.

I stare hopefully into the crowd for Gale, but he's nowhere to be found. Even if he was there, he might be having problems getting to the front of the mob. When he left the previous night, he said that he would try to make it, but he had a few things to prepare for and didn't know if he'd get here in time. I said my goodbyes to him yesterday, but that doesn't stop me from looking for him now.

I hadn't slept the night before. I'd stared into the red numbers on my clock for 5 hours straight, thinking that if I did it long enough I would fade into sleep eventually. But I was completely aware of every painful second that it took to get me to this moment. I'd rolled over and over in my bed until my mother had to intervene and tell me to settle down. Apparently I was keeping Prim awake.

She'd asked if I wanted to talk about anything, but I'd told her that it was just nerves, or excitement.

Actually, I spent the night hoping that Gale was sleeping in his bed like any other night, and not indirectly plotting his own demise. Maybe I'd stayed awake because I was afraid that if I fell asleep, I'd wake to find that he had disappeared, or done something stupid.

At one point I went downstairs and actually started to eat. I could never afford to be a nervous eater before, but I'd chugged down two cartons of milk and countless of those wonderful cookies at the dinner table, staring aimlessly out the window before grabbing the package of cookies and walking back upstairs to my room.

_Gale._ I think miserably. _Where are you?_ The least he could do is say goodbye to me if he wasn't sure if we would ever see each other again. Or at least say something so I could remember the sound of his voice if the next time I saw him happened to be when he was in a suit with his tongue cut out.

I shiver.

Mother rubs my arms. "Are you cold, Katniss?" She asks.

I shake my head. "No… just nervous."

"You're going to get a complex if you keep this up." She reaches into a bag that she brought with her and produces a smaller paper one. "Lavender. Rub it under your nose at night if you're having trouble sleeping. It'll help with the restlessness." She shoves it into my hands. I smile gratefully at her.

The train makes those annoying 'hoot' noises and the excitement picks up. It's time to go. My mother bustles me to the loading plank of the train and pulls Prim and I into a hug. Prim's arms wind around me and squeeze. I squeeze her back. I get a kiss on the forehead from mother before she and Prim start to back away, tears in their eyes.

I stare frantically into the crowd for Gale. _Please come. Please be here._

I see Peeta giving his brothers thumps on the back. They're laughing and making jokes like brothers do. Peeta gives his mother one last hug before he backs up, waving to them. He assumes the position beside me, still laughing at his brother's antics.

_Gale. Gale. Gale._ I chant, pleading with him to show up, to just appear before me to say goodbye.

Peeta wraps an arm around my waist. I move closer to him, needing some kind of support. I feel his head atop mine. I still stare into the crowd, holding Peeta tightly.

The train hoots again, and an Avox boy is directing us into the cabin. Peeta pulls me along, but I lean back, hoping for something… anything….

The train starts to move.

"Katniss?" Peeta asks worriedly, pulling on my arm.

"Where's Gale?" I murmur, so only he can hear me.

He frowns, and turns his head to the crowd, searching.

But it's no use. Gale's not there. Gale's gone. Something in the back of my head tells me that Gale's gone. He's done whatever he had said he would do. He's out… he's out, or he would be here.

Tears slip down my cheeks, and the crowd fades into the distance. The train picks up speed, and the Avox boy is now nudging us forcefully into the cabin.

"I'm sorry Niss…" Peeta sighs, a sad look on his face. I let him pull me into the cabin, and the Avox boy pulls the door shut. Peeta directs me to a seat next to a large window. I lean onto the cushions. Peeta sits beside me, and I lean my head onto his shoulder as he wraps his arm around mine.

He sighs heavily. "Maybe…" But he cuts himself off as he stares at the Avox boy and the countless cameras in the cabin. It's not safe to talk about it. Not here… not anywhere. Anything that I want to say pertaining to Gale will have to stay in my head, under wraps. Anything I say can and will be reported to the Capitol, probably waiting anxiously for something to use against me.

So Gale, my best friend, the boy that has stood beside me and made me into what I am now, will be pushed to the back of my mind. I cannot talk about him ever again.

I'm unable to speak…. unable to breathe….

***

_I'm running again. But this time, I feel someone running beside me. I turn my head, and Gale is panting with exhaustion, pushing himself faster. I feel as if we've been running for hours. _

_I turn my head back, and see the fleet of hovercrafts once again. They gain on us. I turn my head forward. Gale and I fly through the forest, with the Capitol at our backs._

_The forest swarms around us. It seems familiar somehow. As if I've seen this before, watched it happen. _

_We reach a small clearing, and suddenly, a hovercraft appears right on top of us. The black silhouettes with the flashing white teeth bear down on us from above. The teeth are gritted. They want us dead. _

_I hear a grunt next to me as I stare up in fear. I turn to see…_

_Gale…._

_An arrow…_

_Straight through his heart…_

_He falls to the ground in slow motion. I cry out as he hits the forest floor, a sickening crack as something within him breaks…_

_Gale breaks…_

_I try to help him, but I know it's too late. I fall to my knees and I'm frozen. The hovercraft freezes me, and carries me up. _

_Gale's broken body vanishes below me, and I look up… hopelessly. _

_My eyes widen as I see a figure in the distance, watching me. I try to cry out to the figure, but I'm immobile. If I could only speak. _

_Then the sun catches the person's face, and I see…._

_Me…_

_I see myself, watching horrified as I'm taken away. _

_***_

A scream tears out of my throat when I wake, my eyes flying open and I rise immediately.

I hear a few muffled curses and a loud thump across the room. I see Peeta sprawled on the floor with a chair underneath him and a surprised and slightly lethargic look on his face. It would have been funny if I weren't so terrified.

I'm in a bed. I'm still on the train, though, I recognize the compactly luxurious rooms for what they are. I try to sit up, but my body aches. I slept funny.

I feel… empty. Like something that is there normally isn't there… and I can feel it. I wrap my arms around my stomach, trying to hold myself together. I feel if I let myself go I'll fall apart, into tiny pieces that won't ever come together again. I swallow, and I feel the emptiness crawl slowly down my throat and into the pit of my hollow stomach.

"Katniss? What happened?"

I brought my hands to rub my eyes and I feel a wetness…I'm crying again.

Peeta's heavy footfalls come closer and the bed dips with his weight, his arm on my back.

He yawns. He must have fallen asleep in the chair. "Bad dream?"

I nod. I cross my legs and stare at the generically colored grey sheets. The color of Gale's eyes…

"It's nothing. How much longer until we get there?"

Peeta glances at his wrist, where a shiny new silver watch is wrapped around it. "It'd say…. another seven hours or so. You slept through most of it." He grins, but then his expression is concerned again. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Everyone seems so adamant about me talking about whatever is troubling me. I wish I could. I should have when I had the chance.

I shake my head. I think he knows I'm lying, but he says nothing anyway. He goes to his knees in front of me and stares into my face. He's frowning again.

"You don't always have to be so brave, you know?" He asks as if I genuinely don't know.

I sigh again. "I'd tell you…" I glance around the room, trying to see any microphones or cameras. I'd better not chance it. "… but I'd have to kill you." A tight grin stretches across my face.

But he doesn't smile back. In fact, quite the opposite happens. He stands up, and goes to the window where he had sat before. An open book sits on the desk.

"Sometimes I'm not sure if this can work if you're never going to tell me anything…" He says, his eyes on the scenery that flashes past. "I feel like I can tell you everything, you know? Why don't you feel the same?"

"Peeta… believe me. I'd tell you if I…. could." I hope he catches my meaning.

I think he does. And then he's angry again.

He places both hands on both sides of the window, and exhales. He's frustrated.

"The people that made us are going to destroy us…" He murmurs. I almost don't hear him.

I walk up behind him. I'm not sure what to do. I don't know if I should touch him or just stand there like an idiot until he notices me. I settle for an awkward pat on his back.

He chuckles, his shoulders shaking slightly. He turns and suddenly engulfs me in a hug, pressing me tightly against his chest. I wrap my arms around him, and he sighs.

"Everything is gonna be okay. I won't let anything happen to you." I wish I could believe him. "We'll be on camera so much, what could possibly happen that everyone in Panem won't know about?"

It's not that… anymore. I want to tell him, direct his thoughts elsewhere.

This is all his fault, actually. He's the one that encouraged those deluded thoughts of Gale's. If Peeta hadn't been such a…. _guy_, Gale might have been there to say goodbye.

But I need to hold onto him. He holds me together.

Later we decide to get something to eat. It almost seems cheerier back when we were about to face our demise. At least Haymitch and Effie were there to provide us with some unwelcome and annoying diversions. Now it was just Peeta and I, picking at our food, wondering what's going to happen next.

"Did Haymitch elaborate on anything once we get to the Capitol?" I ask, trying to distract myself from Gale. Stupid Gale…

"Cinna and Portia pick us up from the station. From there they're taking us to one of those really nice hotels. They've got shopping malls and restaurants on the bottom floors." He smiles, indulgently. "I don't think they have anything planned for today. But tomorrow we have interviews with some of the news castors from all those popular television shows that we never get to see. We'll do those for the next couple of days, just to get warmed up. The districts gotta know who they're dealing with." He smirks. I smile back. I was more interested in hearing about the hotel, where I was going to sleep and hide away from the rest of the world.

"Cinna and Portia will be with us the entire time. I'm thinking about asking Portia about those clubs they have. Apparently they have a lot of dancing places around the city. I promised my friends I'd bring them souvenirs."

I briefly wonder if his friend girl had asked for one as well. I push that thought away. He doesn't deserve that from me.

"I was thinking maybe… we could have a date?" He asked shyly, his face turning slightly red, all the way to his ears.

I wasn't familiar with the concept of a date though. I'd heard about girls going on dates, but they always were just… talking. District 12 didn't really cater to the needs of starry-eyed adolescents. No one had any extra money to spend on anyone but themselves.

"What do you mean, date?" I ask. The word 'date' brings my own gust of red to my face.

He twiddles his fork in his steak, gravy, and rice. "I don't know. I was going to ask Portia what people up here do when they have the money to take others out like that. But… maybe we could check out one of those restaurants? I could ask Cinna or Portia to chaperone if you want…"

Pfft… I'm only sixteen. I didn't really have any interest in the restaurants or the sparkling stores or 'clubs' in the Capitol. But one look at Peeta's face made me feel that it might be worth it. I wouldn't be thinking about Gale, the cameras were likely to be on us so I'd be making a good impression. And there is always the fact that the flush on Peeta's cheeks are extremely endearing and I'm having a hard time saying 'no' to him.

"Okay." I say, before I can talk myself out of it.

"To the chaperone or the date? Well… I suppose if you said yes to the chaperone than you're automatically saying yes to the date, but I just wanted to be sure…" He's fumbling around with his words. My mother used to say that my father did that all the time before they married and that was how she knew that he really liked her. "…I don't want to just assume that you wanted to, I mean…"

I cut him off before he bursts a blood vessel. The vein in his forehead looks ready to explode. "I mean…. yes to the date, and I don't care about the chaperone. If it would make you feel better…"

The smile that breaks across Peeta's face makes everything worth it.

"I'm sure… if we stay in the hotel we won't have too many problems. If we decide to leave then of course they can come along. I just didn't know if you…"

"I'm fine." I say, trying to be soothing, but it comes out as more of a snap than anything else. I really need to work on that.

Peeta's jaw snaps shut. This is a nice change from the self-assured Peeta back in District 12.

"It'll be fun." I assure him, amused by the look on his face.

He sits back in his chair and lets out a breath, as if he had been holding it for quite a while. He reaches across the table to take my hand. Then, with a wicked smile on his face, he says: "That'll give the Capitol something to talk about."

***

"Rise and shine, sleeping beauty!"

I groggily open my eyes again, expecting to see Peeta's face like a ray of annoying sunshine in my face. But it's not Peeta.

"Portia!" I cry, and wrap my arms around her neck. She holds me for a brief second.

"Don't tell me you slept the entire way through! Poor Peeta must have been bored out of his mind!" She pulls me out of my room. I take it that we're in a hurry.

"Where's Peeta?" I ask as she drags me off the train.

"Cinna's with him."

I frown. Why isn't Cinna with me?

Portia drags me across the platform of the train, and I don't even get a chance to look back at the train before we enter into some kind of tunnel. Everything is moving too fast. Where are we going? Where's Peeta? I'm also still angry that Cinna wasn't the one to pick me up. It was supposed to be him.

"Portia, what's going on?"

"Keep that look on your face. It'll be good for the photographers." She answers in an exhilarated rush.

Photographers? Already?

Suddenly, we're in another room. I have no idea how we got here, but this room looks so much different than any other room I've ever seen. It looks… official…

The room is long, with beautiful angelic carvings all in the vaulted ceiling. Beautiful marble pillars hold the ceiling high above our heads. Everywhere, I see people walking around in suits, talking together. They stop to stare at the spectacle that Portia and I make as we rush past. Portia is wearing fluttery purple shirt with square shoulders and a black pencil skirt and heels. I'm wearing a sky blue jacket with sweat pants. Serves me right for trying to stay comfortable.

Then it hits me, as I stare at all the officials that look at me.

The Capitol building.

Portia is dragging me through the Capitol building.

The skeptical looks follow us as we set through a set of doors and down another hallway. These are the people that I insulted when I took those berries… when I covered Rue in flowers…

They didn't look insulted, but I knew what was coming when I saw a very large door getting closer and closer to us.

I tried to slow down. "Portia… please tell me what's going on." Surely Portia wasn't the one that was going to feed me to the lions? Maybe that's why Cinna wasn't here. He didn't want to see me on judgment day.

"Don't worry darling…" She hushed me, but I dug my heels into the floor, effectively stopping us. "KATNISS! We're going to be late!"

What do I care if I'm late to my own trial? "Where's Cinna and Peeta! I want to see them now!" I yell at her. She looks affronted.

"You'll see them later. Right now we need to get you ready."

"Why are we here!?" I scream. People are looking at us. This is bad for my image, but I'm beyond caring.

Portia holds my shoulders, and looks into my eyes. "Everything is going to be okay. But we need this element of surprise, okay? Trust me, no matter what happens, you need to be surprised." She nods.

Her eyes don't hold any malice or indifference towards me.

I gain confidence that she's not (at least not knowingly) leading me to my death. But I'm not confident enough to stop shaking as she starts to pull me along again.

***

I KNOW I KNOW!! This is cruel and unusual punishment! Don't think I don't realize that but I have a French exam! But I'll give you a day: Christmas Day. 10 days, that's not so bad, right? Give me some time to edit and whatnot and I'll have it up.

…. At least you got the chapter? *smiles hopefully*

debsterchen: Gale Gale Gale…. I love him to death but I am sooo mean to him in this story. Lol.

Lost in Believing: Yes, Gale and Peeta are on friends terms. You'll see later. =) Man I love knowing things others don't know. Hehehehe….

Trina Mason: I'm soooo glad you're patient. Lol.

Maddieee: Fixed! Thanks! I was wondering about that, and I was looking for it, but I couldn't find it. =/

Paper Hearts Bleed Ink: Cool name btw. Lol. The leg is there… I'm just not mentioning it. I haven't felt the need to right yet. Maybe I can bring it up later.

Midnight Hikari: I hate those stupid bidets. Grrr….

Aldara Gaea: OMG, I don't know about you but Twilight was a bit of a disappointment for me. THE SPARKLIES WERE ALL WRONG!!! =..(

LordRevan555: UPDATE!!! Lol.

Growing_Angry: *backs away slowly* Okay okay!!!... geeezzzz

McSlick: Let me seeee….. Can I get back to you on that?


	8. There is a Face Behind this Face

Hunger Strikes

By: Princess Ashley

AN: I own nothing.

On the first day of Christmas, Ashley gave to me…:

**Eight: There is a Face Behind this Face**

Doors…

Tall....dark…doors…

That is all I see as I'm dragged forward. I feel as if Portia should be putting huge iron shackles on my wrists right about now, stripping the shirt from my body and sending me into a giant arena where I'll be fed defenseless to a giant mutilated bear or something.

But her relaxed though slightly euphoric face keeps me from jumping to conclusions. All that remains in my head is confusion. If I can rule out a trial, death, torture, and anything else that would make Portia's face just a little bit more on the edgy side, what was I walking towards?

_Gale._

Have they caught him already? Impossible. Gale has more sense than to get caught on the first day out of the District. He's more resourceful than that. I cross that out of my head, but the nagging remains.

The only time I'd ever heard of anyone needing to go into the Capitol building was to be tried… or to dispute…

Could someone be disputing the Games? Does someone have the gall?

Portia's heels click on the marble floors, her hand still closed around my wrist. The eyes of the workers in fine suits are on us as we fly briskly through the many hallways. Doors… who knows where they lead to… there are hundreds of them. It's very fitting considering the government in Panem is the most extreme kind of democracy, at least that I've heard of.

Finally… we seem to reach _the_ door. The very last door in the mile long hallway.

Portia turns to me and starts to prim my hair, running her fingers through it. I wince as her fingers tug at the numerous knots. Damn Peeta. He told me I wouldn't be dealing with anything today. It occurs to me that he probably had no idea what was happening, but I disregard that. It makes me feel better just to blame him.

She smoothes my clothes as best she can, plants a kiss on my cheek, whispers 'good luck' into my ear, and shoves me through the large door.

I hear the doors slam behind me faintly, but I'm too busy being horrified to notice.

The courtroom is full of Suits. That's what I'll call the men in white collared uniforms. Suits. Fitting.

They sit in rows of mahogany wooden pews, almost a hundred of them, separated by a long maroon carpet that leads to the front where a judge would sit. Everyone is staring at me as I shake in my boots at the back of the room.

It's a trial. It's my trial. I'm dead.

"Ms. Everdeen."

I look up at the front of the room. None other than President Snow sits on the high pedestal. He's very far from me, but I feel his glare burning a hole in my forehead even from where he sits. His voice is loud, forceful, and slightly irritated.

My legs are shaking as I stare forward. The Suits look at me critically. The look on my face might be comical to anyone that knows me, but it goes unappreciated by the inhabitants of the courtroom. They look cold, and the black suits blur together. They look suspiciously like the men in my dreams that chase me and Gale through the forest. Such shiny, perfect, white teeth…

"Ms. Everdeen, if you will please take your seat."

I look forward. President Snow looks impatient.

I hear a hissing coming down the isle. I look down and to the right and see Peeta peeking out from a pew only one back from the front, leaning out and gesturing for me to come to him.

I almost collapse with sudden relief, but disgust quickly overtakes me. I'm not being judged. I'm the one doing the judging.

I walk to the front, trying to keep my calm. I remember Portia's advice about surprise, so I try to freeze the look of nervous terror on my face. I must look like a frightened child. The cameras from the sides of the room follow my journey to the front. I can feel them zeroing in on my face.

I reach Peeta and he slides over to make room for me. I squeeze in beside him.

"Why didn't you wake me sooner?" I ask. It seems as if he's been here a while before I was. I'm wondering why I was the last to be dragged through the doors.

"_Shhhh…."_ He stares at the front. It seems like a good bet, so I do the same.

President Snow glares at me one last time before clearing his throat and raising his voice again. "As I was saying, the court recognizes Mr. Harmon, a farmer from District 11, as well as the list of participants of the petition to honor those fallen during the Hunger Games."

Was it possible? No way would they recognize something like that. A petition to honor the participants of the Hunger Games? A petition to stop treating us like animals? Who would do such a thing? It would have to be one long list of names for President Snow to recognize something as blasphemous as this.

"What's going on Peeta?" I whisper to him, keeping my face forward. I barely move my lips so my words come out jumbled but he seems to hear me.

"You're in trouble." He mumbles lowly back, reaching a hand to grasp my thigh. I put a hand on his. "You put flowers around Rue after she died, and they had to show it on TV. The whole of Panem saw it. They think you're a hero and think that all those who die should die with honor as well."

I suppose that's the most I can hope for. If someone had signed a petition to do away with the games completely, I'd be dead by now. As it is, I'm lucky to have survived the train ride.

Peeta seems to be channeling my thoughts, and nods grimly, clenching my smaller hand in his.

"This hearing is to state the conditions of this petition, afterwards there will be a short recess. We will start deliberations of the petition after that recess…" He went on to cross out all of my plans for the next two weeks, assuming that Peeta and I were required attendants for the procession.

"How many signatures?" I asked. It would have be a baffling amount for something to come out of it that didn't end with all of the people having their tongues cut out.

"We don't know, but Cinna told me that it was over half of Panem that wanted better treatment for the tributes after death." I couldn't believe all of this. "It's the best they can do right now."

He stares forward. I want to complain, but I'm not two dozen feet away from President Snow's brooding face. Probably not a good move.

"Rome wasn't built in a day, Niss." He whispers again.

I snort. _Puh_-lease. How many people still _remember_ Rome?

I take a moment to look around me, discreetly moving my eyes to the left and right and in front of me. _It's odd that Haymitch isn't here_, I think. If Peeta and I are required to be here, which I assume is why we're here, then surely Haymitch should be here because he's the one that helped me cook up this mess.

Neither Haymitch nor Effie were present, but I did recognize some other faces. I figure that if Panem wants to honor the fallen tributes, then the winners should be present. And they were… well, at least some.

Fallan Eberly, a large District Four tribute from two years ago sat across the isle, his wild black hair hanging around his face as he stared hard at the testaments being spoken. I remember he was fifteen when he was chosen. That makes him seventeen now. He looks at least twenty. Beside him is Hansel Ogden, from three years ago. He was one of the more resourceful ones from District Nine. He was eighteen when he was picked, his last year of eligibility. He's still tall and lanky with platinum blonde hair. He stands out in a crowd. I remember the first thing he did when he got into the arena, which had been a tunnel network below ground, was cover his head with slim and gunk to prevent being seen so easily.

I saw a few others as well. Rowan Swane, an older girl from District Two; Roland Yule, a wrestler shaped boy from District One; Allen Stryker, a bat-like boy with long black hair and a terrifying war-cry from District Two. Ackart Fulke, a brooding man now, from District Ten. Kirby Hurst, a girl from District Five, had been twelve when she was picked as a tribute. I wonder how they feel about the double-win from District Twelve. I also wonder if they care whether or not if the other tributes that they murdered to live deserve any sort of honor.

Seeing the looks on tributes like Fallan Eberly and Allen Stryker, I think they can care less. What's it matter now? I wonder that briefly myself. What's it matter if Rue and Glimmer and Thresh get their honors? It's almost a laugh-petition. But I'd heard about this. Aiming low to get to something bigger once the petition gains enough attention. This petition couldn't have gotten a lot of attention despite the amount of signatures or else I'm sure someone would have mentioned it to me, or at least Peeta. Peeta isn't the one to be watched.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Fallan glance over at me. I'm not sure what to do, so I stare forward, discreetly watching him out of the corner of my eye. I'm not sure, but he might have narrowed his eyes, or maybe just blinked, but shifted in his seat for a second before looking forward again. He may have an air of superiority, but from what I remember of his performance against the other tributes in his year, I could very closely compare him to Cato. He wasn't as large as Cato, but he was a fair hand with any weapon he got his hand on.

I smile to myself, thinking _'I could definitely take him on in a not-so-fair fight.'_

The other tributes don't seem to be completely against the petition. Hansel, from what I can see over Fallan's Afro of curls, is listening politely to the description of the rights that tributes would be given if the petition were approved. The girls seemed to be paying close attention. At least I could give my fellow females some credit. We do seem to be more sympathetic to others. Then I think of Glimmer, and that notion fades.

Then, I notice something that I do not receive with pleasure. Kirby Hurst is sparing glances at Peeta beside me. His face is determinedly forward, listening intently to the presenter. I know he doesn't notice, but that doesn't stop me from gripping his fingers tighter, and turning away. I don't want the girl to know that she's irking me.

I feel Peeta's face turn to me and smile comfortingly, pulling my hand into his lap and running his thumb over the back of it. Once again, I'm amazed at how jealous I can be. How can I keep forgetting how attractive Peeta is? He must look like quite the Prince Charming, fresh out of the arena, and nothing to keep him fastened to my side. I wonder how old Kirby Hurst is? She still looks young. I start counting backwards in my head.

"And with those words, we will take a short recess. We meet back in twenty minutes. Please help yourselves to the food and refreshments in the hall." President Snow stands proudly before leaving through a door behind the large desk.

I stay put, and Peeta stays with me. I watch others start to file out around me. People, I think must be other former tributes, stare interestedly at Peeta and I as we hold our spots until we're sure that no one else is around to hear. I try not to watch Kirby Hurst make her way down the isle with the others.

I turn to Peeta. "I'm in trouble." I whisper, aware that anything I say may be heard by the various microphones in the room. I lean in so close to Peeta as I whisper, our noses almost touch.

"Just be glad that it was a small request. I think the people are starting to realize that anything bigger might make you a target, and let's face it, no one in Panem wants to see me heartbroken." He teases. I could slap him. He would find a way to make this all about him. He sobers when I glare at him. "What I mean to say, is that no one is deluded about the way the government operates. They know what happens when you go against the government. No one can afford to be deluded after what happened with District Thirteen. I think now is the time when they are finally starting to think of ways to manipulate the system. Small requests won't cause much upheaval, won't draw enough attention to cause anyone to make any hasty decisions."

Sometimes, I'm amazed that he can actually be smart. I briefly wonder what kind of grades he got in economics class before shaking it.

"I wasn't expecting to be thrown in seconds after we got here. What was that about?" I ask. "It wasn't so important that they could send you in without me at first. What was that?"

"From what I understand, it's all about the image. Every move we, or you, make from now on has to be calculated and assessed, no matter what the circumstance. Not only have you broken the protocol, but you've brought repercussions on a national scale down on the Captiol. They can't simply let that go, but they can't really do anything about it either. You're the poster girl for this petition. If you suddenly disappear now, everyone and anyone that signed their name to that petition will be in an uproar." He looks around nervously for a second before leaning in even closer. His forehead leans against mine.

"They've made your little escapade stand out more, but they've also made sure that you're safe, at least while this petition is in play. If they can make it look like you started the entire thing, which might have been inferred if you had walked in looking anything other than frightened and confused, then you're dead."

How I wish he could put it another way than that.

"Portia didn't tell you anything, and you needed to be sufficiently worried about the switch for it to look real. Cinna didn't think he could make you show those emotions genuinely enough, so they switched." I twitch my eyebrow. "That's all assumed, by the way."

Good assumption. It makes sense. Cinna can't make me uncomfortable to save his life, poor guy.

I turn to see people filing in again. The doors are wide open, and I can see some of the tributes standing around talking.

"I saw you looking at Fallan. He's a piece of a work, right?" Peeta remarks, looking at me out of the corner of his eye. I can tell he wants to know what my wandering eyes have told me.

"I remember him from two years ago. He seems indifferent really. The rest of them, I can't really tell. The girls at least look slightly sympathetic." I steer clear of Kirby. I'm sure if Peeta saw her he would recognize her. She was pretty popular when she won that year. Maybe five years ago? That makes her seventeen… seventeen…

My own jealousy gets on my nerves.

"I remember Stryker. He was terrifying, but I heard he had a really bad childhood. Parents died when he was a baby. Uncle was an alcoholic. Worse than Haymitch, really. I think there's a book about him…" He rambles. I nod.

The doors slam closed. People have filled in around me without my noticing. I turn forward again, and Peeta's arm winds around my shoulder. I'm sure the cameras in the back are in a frenzy to get a close-up. I scoot closer, but not for the cameras.

Kirby is looking at him again.

***

I'm glaring.

"I'm sorry?"

Still glaring.

"It was completely necessary?"

He's not good at asking for forgiveness.

"Surely, you've figured out the plan by now, Katniss."

Cinna isn't trying to make an argument for himself. I didn't think he would, but it makes me feel better to pour all my anger and post-horror into a death glare. I'm getting rather good at these.

"She knows. She just had to sit in a courtroom and act like she has no idea what brought on all the hubbub. Give her some space."

I thank Peeta silently.

Cinna grins affectionately at me. His plain black outfit is stark against the white of the room around us. He opens his arms to me. I stare critically at him for a second, before launching myself into his arms.

"You know it couldn't have been any other way." He whispers to me.

I nod, not really wanting to talk.

Directly after the rest of the deliberation, which was mainly President Snow pointing out the pros and cons of the discussion, the court had released until a week from today, allowing the media ample time to circulate the news. It wasn't something that the officials seemed entirely comfortable with, but it would look suspicious if they tried to keep it hush hush. Besides, this is big. The rules of the Hunger Games haven't been changed since it started. Indeed, this is big.

Peeta and I decided we'd best follow the crowd. We ended up flooding down the steps in front of the marble white Capitol building, where an apologetic Cinna and a smug Portia waited for us to take us to our hotel rooms.

"Well, here's a to-do. You've single-handing up heaved the very foundations of this society we live in, and you're only sixteen years old. What are you gonna do next?" Cinna mocks me, carefully out of earshot of any of the cameras or microphones that had confined me in the courtroom.

"I was thinking of getting some of that wonderful lamb stew and then going back to bed." I say, stifling a yawn.

"Fitting. I should have assumed." He shakes his head at me. "You've caused quite a stir with the former tributes as well."

Peeta and I cotton on to that remark. "Really?"

Cinna pulls up a long stick in his hand, that looks suspiciously like a giant pen. He clicks one side of it, and a holographic sheet appears before us. "Peeta, you are quite the ladies man. I'm sure you don't get quite so much tabloid nonsense in District Twelve, but this is Capitol society's bread and butter. Look here."

He points to something on the transparent sheet. I see a poll taken about Peeta's attractiveness to the girls in Panem. While my political ratings are taking a hit, Peeta's stock seems to be soaring. I groan. _Just what I need._

He barks out a laugh and wraps his arms around me. "You're dating a modern day Prince in Shining Armor. How do you feel?"

"Embarassed." I blush. He laughs again.

Cinna grins. "Oh, he's not the only one who's getting eyeballs. Katniss is the rebellious beauty that all the boys want to tame. This one," He calls our attention to another sheet as he clicks the pen again. It seems to be some sort of interview with the residents of the Capitol. They seem to agree that I am a 'wild lynx that aches for affection.' I groan again.

"Hang on a second…" Peeta grabs the pen from Cinna and stares down at the page with an agitated look.

It seems I might have something to offer as well. I smirk as Peeta glares down at the page.

Portia distracts us though. "Lets get you to the privacy of your own rooms. We have things to discuss. Stop traumatizing them." She stares accusingly at Peeta.

I hadn't thought till now that my desirability during the Games would carry on once we were out of it.

***

MERRY CHRISTMAS!!!!

Trina Mason: Not even close. Lol. Good try though.

Lost in Believing: You'll see him soon enough…. Or will you? Muwahahaha!!

Debsterchen: Sorry to leave you hanging. I had a lot of stuff to do. =( Thanks! I hate school….

LaniLynne: Thanks for that. I was trying to think about it, but I figured I'd made you guys wait long enough, and I was too lazy to check. Lol.

-Lost in the Stars-: You're right. I'm sorry. TYPO!!! =(

suckerforromance78: Man, I need a beta. I'll check that out as soon as I have time. =)

LordRevan555: Sorry… I'll get to the romance soon. I need to establish a few other things first.

Paper Heart Bleeds Ink: No prob. =)

LaughSpazm: I'm glad you think so. Haha. I thought that was good enough to get everything done that I needed to.

Basketballlover22: of course I'm continuing!!! I'm too far into this to stop now! =)

Young Waggs: MERRY CHRISTMAS!! Thank you!

Kiara212: Is Gale coming back? I could tell you, but I'd have to kill you. Lol. I love making surprises. =)


	9. The Love Game

Hunger Strikes

By: Princess Ashley

AN: I own nothing.

Sooo… it's been a while, but I had a lot of trouble with this chapter. I have a list of things that I want to happen in this story, and I wasn't sure about what to put into this chapter, if some things were too soon or if some things should be left out entirely. I've re-written this chapter about a hundred times, trying to figure out what seemed right, and I think I got what I wanted to accomplished here. Read and find out. Thank you sooooo much for all the reviews, I really appreciate you continuing to read. 3

LaniLynne: Man, don't you hate it when people try to butt in on your man? Grrr…. Haha.

Debsterchen: I thought so. Thank you!

Wallflower's Escapades: GALE! Oh where are you Gale!?!? j/k he's around here somewhere. *looks behind couch* Nope… not there…. *continues looking*

Trina Mason: I do admire you for being honest. Hopefully I can catch your interest again soon. =) I'm working up to it. Haha.

London75: Stupid confusion. I hate it when a story ends with the main character being…. Confused. So anti-climactic. *sigh*

Emmy-loo: I wouldn't mind taking Gale for myself, to be honest. Haha. Or Peeta…. Damn, I'm in the middle AGAIN!!!

Giladren Tinuviel: If it's worth reading, it had BETTER be a shock! Haha. I know, I about fainted when I heard I'd have to wait a YEAR for the next book. Had to find something to do to put myself at ease. =)

Star in the Night Sky: I thought it was. I'm interested to see if Collins brings them in in the next book. That's just my idea though. Haha.

Rides the beast: You hope Peeta is jealous? You're being very mean to him. Haha. It's okay. Technically, I'm mean to him. Don't worry, I'll get my revenge on Katniss soon. Haha.

NightglowsTwilight: I do love my romance. =) *continues trying to find Gale*

Liana: …. Now? =)

Nien317: Me to. only when I finished, there wasn't a thing for hunger games on . Gotta remember to thank whoever requested it….

Chef libby: Interesting with Gale and Katniss, but I'm not sure… I'll see if I cant' do something with it, but I don't want to mess with all the other plans I've got with the story. =) Thanks for the suggestion though!

Jewel: Awwww…. Shucks. *blushes*

Flyinhigh: oh…. You gots to study!! I'm in college, so I have to cut off my time writing with classes to. classes are ruining my college experience, I tell you. Grrr….

Mighty Kajtek: All in ONE sitting!? Wow, I'm flattered. Hehe. Hope it holds up to your expectations.

ANGELOFTHEBLACKROSES: oooo… I don't think I can't handle all this PRESSURE!!! …. Just kidding. I thrive under pressure. Muwahaha!

Sofabedtry: Interesting name… anyways. We'll see! =) Thanks for the review!!

DancingintheMoonlight13: *starts dancing to the song 'Dancing in the Moonlight'* I like that song. Haha. Stupid tabloids. Enjoy!!

Nine: The Love Game

I lay awake in the middle of the night. My sleep seems to be slow coming lately. Between the issues of the petition, the ever-growing price on my head, Gale's disappearance, and the upcoming tour, my mind has been working in overdrive. Add the fact that a little girl, who is not so little anymore, is staring at Peeta while my back is turned, and even when it isn't, and it's safe to say that there will be no peace for me tonight.

The hotel had been a stone's throw away from the Capitol building itself. A long black vehicle had been ordered to escort us down a block or two and we'd arrived. It was a massive building with more floors than I'd been willing to count. Thank the heavens for those elevators, which had told me that there were, in fact, seventy-six floors. Cinna informed me that there was a _rotating_ restaurant on the top floor, where one could eat under the stars if they wished. Peeta had given me a look out of the corner of his eye, and I knew he was putting this into consideration for our _date_. Still, _rotating?_

Past all of Portia and Cinna's teasing about our '_sex-appeal'_ from the writings in those pens that Cinna seemed to have in excess, they'd laid out the plan for our approach as far as politics goes. No doubt, the petition threw it a bunch of new questions for our interviewers to pitch us as the first chance available. I can re-account those conversations without the note cards I'd been given to memorize.

"Did you expect something would come out of your little ceremony for Rue?

"Nope, not at all."

"What do you think of the petition?"

"I think everyone's life should be honored."

"Will you sign the petition?"

"I haven't actually read it, but it's something to consider."

"Anything else to add?"

"Nope, not really."

There. Pretty easy, if I do say so myself.

There was one part of the conversation that had thrown me off completely though. Mr. Harmon, the man who had circulated the petition and had been the one to both write and sign it, was Rue's father. I remember him from the courtroom, but I couldn't recall seeing him close enough to make any comparisons if I'd known at the time. I suppose I shouldn't be surprised. I would have liked to talk to him though, or I suspect he'd want to talk to me at some point. I would like to tell him about his daughter's last few moments in a little more intimate detail than what he had seen on the television. I wouldn't be against learning a little more about my partner in crime either.

While thoughts like these dance in my head, I slowly shift myself within my own confines. Or, Peeta's confines are probably more appropriate.

Peeta had been given a room almost on the exact opposite side of the floor we stayed on. Cinna had insisted that it would be better if we were kept far away from each other. The last thing we needed was a scandal on one of those pens that he had been waving about earlier that day. Needless to say, Peeta hadn't been happy about it. He had been hoping for one of those suite style rooms in which he could enter my room, or vice versa, through a door that connected the two. When he was rebuffed, he grunted and fumed and pouted all the way to his own room, which I found childish, but endearing.

I didn't have to wait long after Cinna and Portia left us to our beauty sleep for a knock to sound on my door at about eleven. I opened the door to find Peeta leaning against the door with a smug look on his face. Apparently, Cinna and Portia's half-hearted attempts at keeping scandal out of the pens and Peeta and I apart weren't enough. Peeta was relentless.

So here we are, cuddled up in a pair of soft hotel bedclothes. Well, half in Peeta's case, who claims that sleeping with something on his chest feels 'oppressive'. Peeta's arms are wrapped securely around my waist, his face lying on my back just above my shoulder blades, sleeping peacefully. Peeta never seems to have problems sleeping. He feels the same way about the Games, as he told me the night we had our little heart-to-heart. But his regrets don't seem to follow him into his dreams like they do mine.

I shift again gently, moving his arms to fall in front of him. His slightly tan chest stands out against the perfect white sheets. They are such a shade of white, the likes of which I've never seen before. The silk feels like heaven beneath my body, but my thoughts keep me from enjoying them. I pull my knees to my chest and stare blankly into the red numbers on the clock at my right. 1:45 AM. I'm getting more acquainted with these numbers as of late. I've stayed awake through most of the early morning, but find myself groggy around noon. It's like my body has sensed a change and has equated itself to a time zone that doesn't exist.

Peeta starts to move onto his back, his legs bending beneath the sheets and flings an arm over his eyes, sighing in his sleep. I should be thankful he doesn't snore, but at least that would give me an excuse to not be able to sleep.

I sigh, frustrated, as I pull the sheets from my legs and slide out of the canopied heaven. I slink over to the window, like I have countless times in my own room, and stare out into the abyss. The difference is that when I look out of my bedroom window, I see the comforting lights of the paper lanterns and the safety of our own little wilderness in the backyard. As I look out of this window, I see darkness. I suppose it's to be expected since I'm on the sixty-first floor, but looking between the rows of towering skyscrapers, there is nothing but blackness. One would never suspect that a city of glowing neon was only a few stories below.

I pull away from the window. My chapped lips and dry throat tell me that I should probably get something to drink. Despite the time, I'm really craving one of those bubbly drinks from all the advertisements. I have a button that will summon a maid on the remote next to my bed, but I'm in a better mood for walking.

I put on the hotel slippers beside the door, clad in baggy sleeping pants, and a long sleeved shirt, and slip a card key into my pocket and sparing a last look at Peeta before trudging into the hallway, the door locking behind me.

My feet sink into the slippers as I begin a slow tread down the hallway. Cinna informed Peeta and I of machines within the hotel that dispense free drinks with the swipe of our key cards. I try to remember where I had seen one of them. I traveled further down the hall, past Peeta's room. He'd been situated in another hall away from myself. He'd been hoping for one of the _suites_ but Cinna insisted that it wouldn't look good to outsiders, but it'd certainly give those pens something to write about.

I reached the elevator and made out a small room on the other side of it. I saw an icemaker and finally, one of those glowing machines. I saw a place for me to swipe my card through. I swiped it and then began my dilemma of picking a drink.

"The grape is good."

I turn quicker than I should have, because my head begins to spin with head rush. Through my distorted eyes, I make out white…no blonde… hair, followed by a chuckle as a hand reaches out to steady me.

"Sorry to have startled you." He smiles.

Hansel Ogden stands before me, smiling as if I'm a three-year-old child. I try to smile back, but it probably comes out more like a wince

He's very slight, his hair falling like a halo around his face. He's clad in bedclothes as well, and those wonderful hotel slippers. "If you haven't tried the carbonated drinks before, stick with the natural flavors. They may turn your tongue colors though." He looks so much younger than twenty-one.

I cough out. "Oh, yeah… okay." I press a button with a purple drink on the front, and a bottle comes shooting out the bottom. I pull it out, and hold it in front of me, not sure what to say. I settle for thanking him, nervously, before turning and heading back to my room.

"Wait… Katniss Everdeen?"

I turn to face him. Surely he knows who I am, already?

"Yeah… Hansel Ogden?" He was one of the surprises in the games three years ago, so it shouldn't surprise him that he's still well known around the districts.

"Yeah… I saw what you did for that little girl. That was very… courageous of you." He says softly. It's hard to believe that this boy could have won the games against the many Catos that entered the arena that year. He seems so gentle. But something puts me off about him…

"Well, it seemed right. I wasn't really thinking. She was a friend…" I try to play it off, unsure if he's trying to get me to admit to something.

"I don't mean that to pry. I'm sure you had your reasons. I'm just saying, not many would have the… nerve… I suppose."

I don't like where this conversation is going. I feel vulnerable under his penetrating blue eyes. I stare back at him, trying to figure him out. He seems sincere, but I can't be sure.

"I guess. Like I said, I wasn't really thinking. I just thought… it's what I would have done for any friend. She was… special. Sometimes, you forget you're in an arena and you have protocol. It seems… to real, sometimes." Part of it is true, but I lie about forgetting the situation you're in.

"I suppose." He says. "You're quite the talk of Panem. You and Peeta?"

"Yes." I answer.

"Hmmm… I must admit; I admire him a lot. It's a special kind of person that would give up their life, especially in the games, for the one they love. It's inspiring really." He smiles at me. He steps a bit closer, but I detect nothing but honestly from him, so I hold my ground. He seems skeptical for a second, but then he asks, quite unexpectedly, "So you're going to be here for a while. The rest of us are going to be here for at least a month. Honestly, this is about the most exciting thing that's happened since the games. If you and Peeta would like to…. come out with us one night, I'm sure everyone would like to meet you." His hands slip into his pajama pockets.

"Do you… I mean…" I start uncertainly. "Do you all get along? Being from different districts and such?"

He sniffs, and looks away down the hall for a second. "I suppose we have a few reasons to be suspicious of each other. But really, you find that even though we're from different districts, we have a lot in common. We understand each other more than others do. Even the Careers," he chuckles, "as arrogant as they can be, are just grateful to be alive. There's really nothing that can explain the kind of relationship that we have. We fight, of course, and we have various discrepancies, but we're the only ones that don't idolize each other. Districts One, Three, and Four may enjoy it most of the time, but it does get rather trying."

I nod, starting to understand. It seems like Peeta and I are about to get inducted into some kind of fellowship of tributes. I wish it sounded worse, but the idea was oddly appealing. Not many can bond over having killed people.

"The rooms all have phones, so uh…" he ruffles around in his pocket for a second and pulls out a pen. "Ah… I don't have paper with me…" He takes a step toward me. I figured out what he's going to do, and hold my arm out. He scribbles out a series of numbers on the inside of my forearm. "Call it some night, and bring Peeta. We'll probably be going out tomorrow night, if you have time. I know you've got interviews scheduled and such."

I nod, and he gives me one last smile before turning to walk down the hall towards the horrible elevators.

I walk towards my room. I contemplate waking Peeta up and telling him about my conversation with Hansel, but I don't want to get him upset. He'll not doubt think that Hansel has some ulterior motive, trying to find out something to give to the press.

I hope not, but there was nothing manipulative in his manners, not that I could spot it if there were.

I continue to my room anyway, thinking I'd better not wake him. No use in punishing him for being able to sleep while I stare aimlessly at the ceiling.

I lock the door and climb back into bed, leaning against the headboard. I turn to look at Peeta, his mouth slightly open and his arm still strewn over his eyes. I smile before opening the drink, trying to keep the fizzing to a minimum. I bring it to my lips, and sigh contently. The grape is good.

I don't know how long I sat against the headboard, daydreaming and contemplating and starring at Peeta in his numerous sleeping positions throughout the night, before grabbing my waist again and snuggling into my side. It was slightly uncomfortable for me, because my back started to cramp before he grabbed me, but I stayed still, wanting him to sleep. One of us at least was going to have gotten a fair amount of sleep tonight.

But Cinna brings me back to the land of the living with his hard knocking on the door, demanding for me to wake up. I almost laugh, and tell him I never went to sleep, but I don't want him to worry either.

But a groan from Peeta beside me gives me a jolt as though I've been electrocuted. I'd forgotten to wake Peeta up in time for him to get back to his room before Portia arrived to wake him up. I entertain a brief thought of shoving him into a closet before Cinna saves me the trouble.

"He'd better be in there Katniss, or we'll have to declare him missing. On the brighter side, that gives you some leverage for pity. I can see the headlines now. 'Prince Charming flees the coup leaving tragic SINGLE warrior princess in his wake.'"

I groan. _For crying out loud._ I shake Peeta awake, and he blinks blankly before smiling up at me, much the same way did in the Games. After waking up beside me countless times, he still looks at me as if it's the first time. I slap him gently on the side of the face before getting up and letting Cinna in.

He gives me a wry look, but I just smile sheepishly. He shakes his head before whispering into my ear, "If you end up pregnant, don't blame me. I tried." I roll my eyes as Portia bustles into the room and crosses her arms, looking at Peeta who's wrapped himself up in blankets again.

She looks around the room and grabs up a small little tourist booklet before stalking up to the bed and whacking what might to be Peeta's buttocks. The startled yelp from the heap confirms it, and Portia pulls the sheet off Peeta's head. She glares at him, and if looks could kill, the headlines would contain an obituary instead of a 'poor tragic Katniss' article.

I'd never noticed before, but Portia and Peeta had a very affectionate relationship. Not affectionate in a way that I should be watching my back, but more like a way a big sister and little more adolescent brother. But it was amusing to see Portia telling Peeta off for sneaking into my room in the middle of night, and Peeta blushing like a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

***

Peeta and I are guided to a long car in front of the hotel and driven downtown to the salons where we would be getting ready for our little interview. Cinna had taken a box out of my closet, I'd forgotten which dress it contained, threw it under his arm and followed me out of my room this morning. I look like the morning after nightmare, but Cinna assures me that it won't even show after he's done with me.

He takes me to one of the largest buildings in the city, so tall I can't even see the top. Then, in one of those glamorous elevators, Cinna pushes the button 78. I can't even hold my stomach before the elevator shoots up into the air like a bullet. By the time we eventually reach floor 78, my knees have buckled beneath me and I sit cross-legged in the middle of the elevator while Peeta laughs, clutching on the hand railing for dear life. I give him a look about the position of his hands, and he defends himself. "_I_ didn't fall." He claims. He might have, if he hadn't had the extra support. Now I know why Peeta, Cinna, and Portia all claimed the outer walls of the elevator while I was forced to stand awkwardly in the middle.

The doors open, and the room in full of colorful haired people dressed in black, fussing over other people who look just as outstanding as they do sitting in high black chairs.

All the people stop talking to stare at us as Cinna takes the lead to walk past everyone else and up some stairs to another landing closed off by a curtain.

As we walk, I see the way some of the young girls, though possibly older than I am, whisper and giggle and look adoringly at Peeta who walks in front of me. There are hardly any guys there, so I don't know if that kind of adoration translates to myself, but then when does it ever?

They all looks so glamorous, with their piles of curls and wonderful clothing made out of cloth that looks like it was torn from water or the sky. They look beautiful. I wonder if I can ever look that beautiful when Cinna is finally done with me. I'd never felt so insecure since Cinna decided to show Peeta and I our many admirers in the Capitol.

I'm relieved when the curtain closes us off from the rest of the salon, and Cinna forces me into a chair opposite Peeta. He looks around the glass mirror to grin at me. I grin back, a bit forcedly. He was being treated like a God; I was being treated like a leper. At least from the girls. Not even Hansel had shown any attraction last night. I hadn't wanted it, but it would have been nice to have it all the same.

I keep quite while Cinna curls and pushes my hair around my head. I try not the look in the mirror to criticize myself, but I can't help it at time. Instead I decided to criticize Peeta's hair, but I don't find much, especially now.

Portia seems to be cutting quite a lot of hair off Peeta, but he's too busy clicking the pen she gave him, laughing ever few seconds before clicking again. Wonder what he's reading… or seeing? She leaves his bangs to swish over his eyes, but his hair no longer brushes his shoulders. She leaves it longer on top and shorter around his neck. Next she starts spreading this thick paste into his hair, folding some pieces of foil over it and lowering some weird blue lantern-like thing over his head. Still, he's too distracted to notice. I wonder if they'll do the same to me. It looks like it has the potential of being painful, but Peeta's not noticing anything, so maybe it's okay.

I don't see anything else as Cinna flips my hair in front of my face. I focus on being able to breathe after that.

"WHAT THE HELL!!!"

I'm not sure how long I had been zoning with the blanket of hair over my face, but Peeta's voice startles me out of my daydreaming. Figures I'd only be able to sleep when I really needed to be awake.

"Calm down, Peeta. It's different, but nothing drastic and it definitely doesn't warrant your outburst."

"My hair's gone!!! And… and…ARGH!!"

I have to see this. I toss my hair past my face, earning a frustrated scoff from Cinna, but Peeta's appearance has me speechless.

So I laugh instead.

Peeta glares at me as I fall into hysterics over his new look. His hair was streaked with light brown and…. platinum maybe? I can see why he's upset but I have to admit…. He looks good. He still has a lot of hair, but not quite as much as he used to. The hair no longer falls over his eyes, giving him a rather classic look like those glamorous models on the tall billboards. His hair doesn't cover his shoulders any longer either, which, once the black mat they laid over him to keep his clothes from getting hair on him is taken off, one might be able to tell how well built he is. On top of that, Portia seems to have made it silky and shiny, making it look almost wet.

"Cinna, I demand you do something as horrible to her as Portia did to me." He announces in Cinna's direction. I calm down and turn to Cinna with a wary look.

"If she doesn't sit still long enough to get the right look, I may have to." He warns, and I spare a gulp and an apologetic smile before turning around. Peeta looks thoroughly upset though, and I feel like I should ease his panic.

"You look good, Peeta." I say, trying to keep the laughter at his expression out of my voice. He stares at me suspiciously, before turning his eyes to the mirror in front of him, turning his head in either direction, getting a better look at himself but a pair of large sunglasses obscure his face. They look really nice, like the expensive designer ones. They probably are.

"Fabulous." Portia sighs, before hauling Peeta out of the chair and into another room, but not before winking at me as she follows him through. "This will teach him," she says conspiringly.

I want to laugh as well, but Cinna's pulling my hair back again, and running a comb through it.

***

Peeta's eyes pop when he sees me come through the side door into the lounge provided to us before we are to be guided onto the studio floor. Peeta will go in before me, wow the crowd and warm them up before bringing me out. The crowd can't seem to get enough of Peeta. I briefly wonder if Kirby will be watching this. I kind of hope so, but at the same time, I'd rather her not be looking at Peeta in a place where I can't see her. It makes me feel safer to have her within glaring distance.

I laugh when he makes a show of his tongue falling out of his mouth and panting like a dog. It's not worth all his teasing. I suppose the dress is a little short, but fashionably innocent looking, as Cinna says. The garment is yellow with a few streaks of different shades of gold and orange and a jeweled 'empire' waistline, and it flows down to about my mid-thigh, falling at slightly different lengths. I start towards him, trying out my graceful walk…

…. And promptly fall on my face. It's Peeta's turn to fall into hysterics at the image of me scowling with anger and pain on the floor.

The shoes will take some getting used to. The heels are higher than I've ever seen, with more straps holding my foot into place than I can count. They were very nice looking when I'd seen Cinna put them on my foot, but as soon as I stood up, I had to wince and hold onto him. We'd had a few practice rounds with them on, but I'm still having some trouble.

"We can use different shoes if you aren't ready for them yet, but the heels are a must for this tour. It's no good for my reputation to have you looking anything less than fashionable." Cinna had said, but I was determined to get the hang of them, and now seemed like the perfect time.

I ignore Peeta's proffered hand and bring myself slowly to my feet. The heels hurt, but they're nothing I can't handle. I stand without shaking, taking a deep breath, and try again. I walk towards the couch Peeta had been lounging on when I entered without a mess up, and then towards the side of the room, which have about three stairs that I practice on again, and walk back to Peeta. He had been staring at me while I made my practice rounds as Cinna had taught me with a dazed look. I slap him upside the head.

He snaps out of it, shaking himself slightly, before giving me a wolfish grin. "Is it too much to ask for you to wear those all the time? I promise I won't laugh if you trip again."

"I can poke your eyes out with these, you know." I threaten, trying to keep the laughter from my face. "I've heard of people getting disemboweled with these kind of shoes." I'm having a hard time keeping a straight look on my face when he gulps, raising a painted eyebrow. My eyes had been ghosted with gold glitter, mascara and something Cinna said would make my eyes 'pop'. Sounded promising.

He raises his hands defensively. "Got it."

I smirk, and then Portia enters with Cinna following behind her. She straightens Peeta's V-neck T-shirt that's covered by a nice dark grey vest. Black trousers cling nicely to his legs and dress shoes adorn his feet. With the sunglasses in his collar, he looks like a star. A beautiful star.

Portia musses up Peeta's hair, making him try to flatten it down embarrassedly before she slaps them away. "It's the look. Don't mess." She threatened with a finger in his face. He nods and sighs, looking at me again. I smile affectionately, popping my behind me, making him chuckle.

A screen pops up on the wall across from the couch. A broadcaster with blood red hair is welcoming everyone to the show with an audience in front of him while he stares into the camera. I feel like he's staring straight at me, but I know he isn't.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, we do have a treat for you this morning…" Great, now he's making us seem like a snack. I jump slightly as Portia lets out an excited squeak, which makes Peeta stare at her warily.

"That's right, everyone. Peeta Mellark and Katniss Everdeen, right here in the studio. Now you all know how Peeta fell in love with Katniss when they were children, and you also know how Katniss fell head over heels in love with Peeta while in the arena!" The crowd screams. I remember that my life and Peeta's has been thrown to the crowd to eat up. I feel vulnerable again, but I've been preparing for this. It will be fine.

"Now, for their first interview since returning to the Capitol, we will be able to see how their relationship has developed since the Games. Has their relationship survived? Find out, when we come back." A line of commercials are brought across the screen.

Peeta and I share a look. Has our relationship survived? I wonder how many thought it would end as soon as we left the arena. I certainly did, and look how wrong I was. It sounds bad, but I almost thank the Games for the one thing that I was grateful for, because I wasn't sure that Peeta would have ever gotten up the brawn to tell me how he felt otherwise. I whisper, "Pansy." His eyes narrow. "Says the warrior princess."

"Peeta, get ready." I spit my tongue out at him, hoping to rile him up before going out. Portia smoothes his vest out again, and the television shows our blood-haired announcer again.

"Now get ready, ladies. It's my extreme pleasure to welcome… Mr. Peeta Mellark!"

Portia excitedly shoves Peeta up the stairs and through the door, where he disappears, and I start to wring my hands nervously.

Peeta's face appears on the screen before me, and Cinna pulls me to relax on the couch, Portia taking my other side, bouncing slightly.

Peeta looks like a god walking with a strange confidence onto the studio floor, where hundreds of lights flash onto his path, making it seem like he's just stepped out of a vortex. He smiles charmingly at the cameras, and the screams are so loud I can hear them from behind the door.

Peeta steps up to the announcer, and shakes his hand happily. The man, whom Cinna whispers is named Blaze Maddox, leads him to a leather couch, with a large screen behind them, showing only Peeta's face. Blaze sits on a chair off to the right of the screen, holding a microphone.

The playful banter that Peeta is always so good as ensues. Blaze questions Peeta about his trip home and how it was to see his family and friends again, and things to that effect. He calls Peeta's attention to all the screaming girls in the audience, and Peeta waves bashfully at them. But Blaze can't get enough. He soon starts asking the audience members for questions. I see one girl in the audience speak out into the microphone that is shoved in front of her face. "Are you and Katniss still together, and if not, will you go out with me?" She giggled out. Giggling should be outlawed in these kinds of functions.

"Katniss, you're killing my hand." I hadn't realized I was holding so tightly until Cinna jerked it out from under me.

After the fourth or fifth question about Peeta's love life, you'd think that they would stop asking, but these girls are both stupid and deluded, it seems.

Peeta had answered the first girl to ask with, "Katniss and I are still dating, but if it doesn't work, I'll keep you in mind." He winked.

"He has to say that to keep the audience friendly." Cinna comforted me. I start grumbling about how they never would have given him a second look if he hadn't won the Hunger Games.

"Careful now, ladies. We've got Ms. Everdeen backstage right now. Speaking of which, I believe it's time to bring her out, don't you?" These people thrive on drama. I hear a more masculine crowd start to shout, and I see Peeta's smile tighten a bit. At least I'm not the only one.

"Well, then, Katniss, why don't you make your way out here then?"

Cinna drags me off the couch, and primps my hair a bit before I walk carefully up the stairs and through the door into blackness. I see a curtain in front of me though, so I start forward carefully, taking a deep breath, and opening them, and the light blinds me.

My eyes adjust, and it feels like déjà vu. I eye the floor as my heels click, trying to keep my eyes off the crowd until I'm on solid ground, and then I finally look up into the masses. I smile as some loud music plays upon my entrance, almost outdoing the screams of my fan club.

I see Peeta's eyes on me as I walk in, and he's the only one I want to look at. He stands as I approach and throw my arms around him, hugging him tightly. Whistles shoot up around us, and I see Blaze laughing over Peeta's shoulder. It seems Peeta should let me go, but suddenly he picks me up and swings me around for good measure. He's sending a message to my admirers. I can't care less.

When he sets me down, he kisses me on the cheek, and then I turn to Blaze, not missing a beat. Blaze draws me into a hug of his own, which apparently talk show people do with women even when they don't know them at all.

I take my spot next to Peeta, and Peeta grabs my hand, pressing a kiss into the back of it, and lying it on his thigh.

"Well, well, well…" Blaze starts off. "It seems like you two are still going strong. Tell me, how did your…. Mother? How did she handle your return with not only your life but a new boyfriend?" He crosses his legs and turns towards me.

I spew out some lovey-dovey story that makes the audience swoon and makes Blaze make funny noises to. To my surprise, he carefully avoided questions about the petition and the like, but I got the opinion that this show was for far younger people to watch, judging by the audience, and therefore they probably wouldn't care about any political matters.

But amidst all of the personal questions, I still receive my turn with questions from the audience. I'm amazed that one boy actually asks what I look for in a guy with Peeta sitting right next to me. I pretend to blush, and begin to describe Peeta perfectly, but it's only obvious to him. Funny, irritating, sweet, knows how to take care of himself, bald, etc. I can't resist the 'bald' comment, knowing how Peeta felt about his hair, even if he was still far from hairless.

"Now," Blaze started again, "you know that you two have one of the most controversial relationships out there right there." I do know that. Peeta squeezes my hand. I half hope that he'll answer this question for me. "I haven't seen two people that would willingly give up their lives to be together in… well…. Since Romeo and Juliet, really." He laughs. But are Peeta and I really _that_ tragic? "Peeta, what was running through your head when Katniss pulled out those berries?"

Peeta pretended to think for a second, staring into the cameras. "Well, I was perfectly ready to give my life for her. I still feel like she has so much more to live for than I do, and if the scenario arose again, I would give up everything for her. But I was thinking… the whole games didn't seem so real until that moment. When they announced that they had tricked us," I stared at Peeta. Why would he use the word 'tricked'? Is he trying to get himself in trouble? "I thought… there's no way I can kill her. They can tell me to, but I can't. It's not even a matter of not wanting to, though I didn't want to. But… I'm rendered incapable of doing anything to hurt her." He looks at me now, with that intense look in his eyes. I can feel everyone holding their breath around us. Even Blaze seems to be leaning forward in his seat, but Peeta seems to be bigger than this whole room. "And it means the world to me that she felt the same way." This seems like an inappropriate time to be having such an intimate conversation, but Peeta is nothing if not theatric. "This is real, you know?" I don't know who he's talking to, but I can't even blink.

"Wow…" Blaze's voice cuts through our moment, and I'm almost grateful. I'd much rather be in the privacy of our room or something to talk about this. I want to hear more of those words from him, just not here, where the fangirls are promising death to me and the fanboys are fantasizing the same about Peeta.

It seems we've rendered even our host speechless, but I don't care. As far as I know, Peeta and I had blown our first interview out of the park.

***


	10. Trusting You With Everything

Hunger Strikes

By: Princess Ashley

AN: I own nothing.

I got some updates on Catching Fire, including the plotline. Sounds promising!!! =) I'm so excited.

Max Brown: This is God? How utterly disappointing. Lol. Thanks though!!! =)

Star in the Night Sky: hehehehehehe. You may be finding out soon. =)

Liana111: Thank you! I'm pretty proud myself

LaughSpazm: Dang it. I'll fix that when I get the chance. =)

Lost in Believing: Oh yes. Good old-fashioned jealousy. I'm a fan, I really am. Haha.

ANGELOFTHEBLACKROSES: Awww shucks. *kicks leg back and forth*

Giladren Tinuviel: No way can Peeta ever outdo Katniss in that department. But maybe he'll try…. Haha. Sorry for torturing you… you may not want to read this chapter if that's the case. *shrug*

DancingintheMoonlight13: HAHA!!! OMG I love that! Poor Peeta is getting an eye… and ear-full. 3 I love you Peeta. I like Toploader but I don't know who Alyson Stoner is… I'll look it up on Youtube and get back to you. Haha.

Whydoesitalwayshappen: Peeta's always affectionate with everyone. It only made sense to me. =)

EdsBrunettes: You're lucky I was feeling inspired this week. Haha.

Ten: Trusting You With Everything

After a few more questions from a breathless Blaze, the show cuts off. Blaze smiles while the rest of the crowd continues to try and wrestle their way onto the stage.

"I wish you two the best of luck on your tour. Please feel free to drop by the studio anytime. We'd love to have you." Blaze shakes Peeta's hand and gives me a kiss on the cheek. I begin to turn and head back towards where we came in, but I see Cinna peeking through the curtain and gesturing for me to turn back around towards the audience. I turn and see Peeta already advancing towards the throngs of people behind a large blue screen that stretches across the threshold. Their hands can reach across though, holding pens and hand-helds, screaming for autographs.

Peeta stops right where the screen starts, blocking him from the hands of screaming girls. I walk towards the many boys and girls yelling for me to sign, and I smile as charmingly as I know how, taking the pens and scribbling my name on the hand-helds being thrust in front of me. Some didn't have them though, so instead, they put out their arms, turned their heads and motion for me to sign their necks, their foreheads, their backs. One boy takes his shirt all the way off and asks me to sign across his chest. I spare a look at Peeta. A girl is smiling coyly at him, and I see him smile shy and tense, before taking the marker from her and signing over the swell of her breasts. He looks at me when he finishes, rolling his eyes so I can see. I smile, content, and then proceed to scrawl my name across the boy's stomach, which, I can't help but notice, is very hard and toned. I look up to give him the pen back, and he smiles smugly at me, handing me a piece of paper with a number on it. I smile indulgently, before continuing on to the others. Some however won't even take signatures. They rather have kisses or hugs, poses for pictures, and the like. I pose with a pack of boys who crowd around me while another takes a picture. Peeta does the same a few hoards away from me. It strikes me as fundamentally crazy, but the cameras and crowds are eating it up, so I place a light kiss on one of their cheeks for good measure.

"Marry me, Katniss!!"

"Run away with me!!"

"Peeta, I love you!!"

"I'll wait for you, Peeta! I'll wait for YOU!!"

I try to keep the laughter off my face at the last comment. Peeta looks like he can barely hold it in as well. That's when we decide to bail. Peeta grabs my hand holding it up in the air as we walk towards the stairs leading through the curtain, and the crowds screams only become louder as we disappear into darkness. I pay special attention to my foot placement as we go through the curtain, not wanting to ruin my good luck.

I'm immediately enveloped in a hug by Cinna. "Way to go! I couldn't have done it better myself!" He praises me with a kiss on my cheek.

Portia has her arms wrapped around Peeta's neck as he laughs away. He leans back to look at me with something wicked in his eyes. I think he must have seen me give a kiss to one of the boys. I look down at myself to remind him about his signature on one of the girl's, and he blushes. "Oh come off it." He says, smiling.

Cinna suggests we go out for lunch, and perhaps some shopping on my part, but not before changing us into some street clothes. My feet are grateful for being released from the heels. Cinna shoves me into some nice denim and flat gold shoes. Peeta seems to have taken a liking to his ensemble, so he stays the same.

The day is spent wandering around the streets of the Capitol, keeping the looks of a couple hopelessly devoted to each other, which, I'm not so surprised to admit, isn't as hard as I originally thought. I find myself enjoying holding Peeta's hand as we walk down the sidewalks, letting him guide me into several stores, buying me ice cream and music, holding me close. It's sick really, how much I'm enjoying this. Or maybe not. When I stare at his face, it looks as though there is nothing else he would rather be doing. I try to think of something else that I'd rather be doing, but I can't. It scares me kind of.

I wonder about the conversation that we'll inevitably be having later on today.

The day comes to a close, and I'm glad. My feet are killing me… slowly. Finally, I convince Peeta that it's time to head back to the hotel. He's like a little boy how fascinated he is by the city, the lights, the people, everything.

We arrive back at the hotel a little before seven, and my stomach is growling in hunger for some dinner. That reminds me about Hansel's offer. I look to my arm to see if the number is still written down, but my arm is clean. I sigh, hoping that maybe it isn't that big of a deal. Perhaps I'll ask Cinna about it tomorrow. Besides, Peeta wants to take me to that restaurant on the top of the hotel… for our 'date'.

"I can't even believe it _revolves!_ I never thought I would ever be able to afford eating at a restaurant, but a _revolving _restaurant!" I smile indulgently at him. He turns to me, with a mischievous look in his eyes. "You're gonna wear those shoes again aren't you?" I hit him, and he laughs. He's always laughing.

"Mr. Mellark?"

Peeta turns abruptly towards the concierge who called him. "Excuse me, sir. But you received a call today. There's a message waiting for you in your room."

Peeta turns serious all of a sudden. I'm transfixed on how fast he made the change. "Oh… thank you, sir."

"Just press the pound button on the phone, and it will give you the recorded message and a callback number."

"Okay. Thanks…." Peeta trails off, looking a little unsettled. He shifts uncomfortably from one foot to the other, eyes darting around.

"Hey… are you okay?" I ask. I'm concerned at the restless composure he has assumed.

"What?" He looks at me suddenly, as if just remembering that I'm still here. "Oh. Yeah. I'm fine… why?" He narrows his eyes at me suspiciously, as if I've just accused him of something.

"I just… you look…" I sigh as his eyes narrow a bit further. "Nothing." I'll find out later. Right now I really just want to eat. And I want Peeta to fall back into Prince Charming mode… now. "Let's get back to the room. I'm getting hungry." I say, hoping to distract him.

It works. "Yeah! Oh!" He cries suddenly, making me jump. "I have to call up there and make sure they have a table for us! I'll meet you at your room in a minute!" He kissed me on the cheek, before running for the stairs, bypassing the elevator completely, leaving me in his wake. Is it just me? Or does it seem like he really just wants to be out of my presence right now? I walk slowly towards the elevators, wondering what could possibly have gone wrong. What message was he waiting on that would make him act like that the second he got it?

I press the button on the elevator, and the doors open, admitting me inside the death trap. I close my eyes and grip the rail as it shoots towards the sky.

***

I brush my hair, putting on a pair of nice grey pants and a long blue shirt with Peeta's heels. I look at the clock again. It's running on nine thirty, and I'm starting to feel a little weak with hunger. I haven't actually felt _hunger_ since the games. The familiar feeling starts to creep up on me again. I wonder what's taking Peeta so long. Must have been an important message. Maybe he called whoever it was back. Maybe it was his friend from District 12. The friend girl. Where would she have gotten a phone though? I shake myself. It can't be her. I'm being stupid.

My stomach growls, and I lay a hand down on it. With the feelings of hunger comes the feeling of emptiness. With the feelings of emptiness brings back memories of my life in District 12, before everything good… and worse starting happening. And with the memories of District 12 comes memories of….

Gale.

I hadn't allowed myself to think of him since the Courthouse, which is a long time for me. My whole life, Gale was always a part of it. Going a whole day, which seems like so short a time, is actually a lot longer to me. The emptiness in my stomach grows bigger.

I start to get frustrated with Peeta, trying to distract myself from Gale. If Peeta had been here at eight, which would have still given him an hour with his messenger, then I wouldn't be feeling like I'm starving, and I wouldn't be thinking about Gale. I would be thinking about how safe I am right now, about how much Peeta means to me. I wouldn't be thinking about how unsafe Gale is, and how much I miss him, and how lost I suddenly feel without him.

A knock sounds on my door, and I scoff, stalking towards it and throwing it open. Peeta stands, looking slightly harassed, but a gentle apologetic smile is present on his fact, throwing his entire look off. His hair is rumpled, like he's run his hands through it repeatedly, getting the gel to make it stand on end. But he still looks incredible… not that I'm going to tell him that. I'm too angry to pay him any compliments.

"Sorry. I got… distracted." How vague. "Are you ready?"

"I was ready two hours ago. How much time does it take to throw on a pair of pants and a shirt?" I ask, grabbing my key card and slipping it into my pocket before closing my door.

"I said I was sorry. It was important."

It sounds important, from the tone of his voice. I turn and look at him. He really does look sorry. I file this away for later, and just give him a tight smile before heading down the hall to the elevator. I'm too hungry to argue right now. As soon as I get some food in my stomach, the sooner I'll forget about Gale.

I hope.

***

The restaurant is round, turning so slowly you really can't tell it's turning unless you look outside. Every time I look up, I see a different view of the city lights, shimmering around me. In every direction I look, it's a city of wonders. I'm having a hard time swallowing just how romantic a spot this is. Peeta sits across from me, looking so handsome, in a white shirt with a blue dress jacket. His hair sits in a perfect mess on his head, though I know Portia would be scandalized if she saw it like that. I like it. It's more Peeta, and less like the Capitol. A candle string of candles sits in a pool off to the side of the table, illuminating our faces in the dark booth. I don't know how I look in this lighting, but I think I must look extremely good, because Peeta won't stop looking at me.

"It's rude to stare." I say, shifting nervously under his gaze.

He blushes, looking away. "Sorry." He's apologizing a lot tonight. I'm more understanding now, I think. I've been munching on bread drenched in olive oil and herbs, so I'm not quite as hungry as I was before.

"Must have been important." I shrug, taking more bread and dipping it into oil. This stuff is addicting…

"It was, actually… Actually, I've been meaning to tell you…" But he can't continue as our waiter shows his face again, offering us something from the wine collection, but we both refuse.

"In that case, do you need anymore time with your menus?" He asks. Peeta hasn't even had time to look. He's been too busy studying my face to look at the menu. I order the first thing I see, which happens to be baked ravioli. Peeta mumbles something to the waiter, and he writes it down before wandering off and blending in with the rest of the room. I turn to stare out the window, as our view gradually moves around.

Peeta sighs. "This isn't how I hoped it would go… I though it would be more romantic somehow." My eyebrows disappear under my fringe. "Not that it's not romantic, it's just… well, neither of us seem in the mood for it."

"I _am_ in the mood for it." Truthfully, his disappointed expression is making me feel guilty. "I just… I don't have much to talk about."

"Well… we do have three interviews tomorrow, as opposed to the one today. It's gonna be nothing but talking and car rides for about twelve whole hours." He starts, a smile starting to lighten up his face. "I'm waiting for them to start talking about the petition, but maybe the Capitol had tried to keep it as low key as possible. Of course," He looks around suspiciously before leaning in, "with all the tributes around… it's hard to not make a spectacle. That's another thing I've been meaning to talk to you about." He lowers his voice even more. "Those pens that I've been reading lately? Well, I think I'm right when I say that the Capitol has the control over the media, but if you look close enough, the writers… they're hinting at things, I think. Things the Capitol is trying to keep quite. Like the petition, and… rebellions."

Rebellions? Is he joking? My thoughts before Portia threw me into the courtroom seem to be more relevant than I'd thought. But who could talk of rebellion without being killed? On top of that, I'm shocked that Peeta seems to actually be learning things from those stupid gossip pens. I never actually thought he was reading the more serious articles… only about the ones that concerned us.

"What do you mean rebellions?" I whisper.

"Katniss."

Peeta and I both jump, turning to look at the boy standing beside our table. Hansel Ogden eyes us amusedly. "Sorry. You were having a intimate conversation?"

"Uh, no! No, we were just talking… Hansel, right?" Peeta is quick to stand and hold his hand out to Hansel, who shakes it with a soft smile.

"Yes. And you're Peeta. It's nice to finally meet you. I've had the pleasure of meeting Katniss already." He said, turning his smile upon me. I nod and blush slightly when Peeta looks at me quizzically.

"I went to get a drink last night and Hansel was walking down the hall. We got to talking for a while." I said.

Peeta nods, still smiling. I get the feeling that Peeta can make friends with just about anyone given enough time to find something in common. "Ah. You're a restless sleeper then too? Katniss can't sit still for two minutes together at night." They laugh, and I blush. _Great. Now Hansel knows that we sleep together. _I stuff some bread into my mouth to keep from growling.

"I hope I haven't interrupted your evening. But I saw you and thought maybe you'd like to join us at our table? Myself and a few other former tributes are just at the other end. They'd very much like to meet you both. I think we'll have plenty to talk about." He gestures to a table where a few other people I can't quite see sit at a round table.

Peeta gives me a look. I can see that he's debating on his own wanting to meet new people and still wanting to talk privately. I shrug. "Sure." He says. "But we've already ordered."

"We can let your waiter know to bring your order to our table. It's no problem." Peeta nods and takes my hand, helping me out of the booth.

Hansel leads the way to the other side of the restaurant, and we can see the others more clearly now. Fallan Eberly and Allen Stryker are the first ones we can make out. They're laughing about something and Allen's screeching sends shivers down my spine. Rowan Swane sips a glass of wine in her seat directly in front of the window, facing us as we approach. I see her smile politely at us, and I smile back, thankful for her kindness. An older boy I don't recognize sits beside her. He must be from a few years back, because he's a lot older looking than the rest of them. Beside him in Ackart Fulke, and beside him is… Kirby Hurst. And from the looks of it, she'll be sitting directly beside either me or Peeta. Just as I make a decision that it's going to be me, Peeta pulls a chair out for me next to Hansel. I slump into my chair, thinking it would be rude not to take the chair he offered, and he slides in next to me with an arm on the back of my chair. I give a thankful smile to Peeta, and see Kirby's eyes seem to sparkle as she realizes that she's sitting right next to him. My hands clench.

"Everyone, this is Katniss and Peeta, of course. You probably know everyone, but we'll do introductions just in case." Everyone gives their names around the table, starting with Kirby. Everyone except for Allen smiles in welcome. Even Fallan manages something between a smile and a grimace.

"It's nice to meet you two." Rowan starts, sipping from her glass again. "It'd meant to introduce myself to you after the briefing the other day but you were swept away so quick I didn't get the chance."

"Yeah, don't want to irritate the stylists. They bite and snap at you with straightening irons and such." The man next to Rowan, named Laurent Corvin, said and everyone laughed.

"Well, we owe a lot of them, so we indulge them in whatever they want. They haven't let us down yet." Peeta chuckles, and the whole table nods.

"The games this year were the best I think Panem has ever seen. I must admit, romance has always been a weakness of mine. The second I heard Peeta say that he was in love with you, I think my heart broke." Hansel clenches a hand to his chest as he speaks. Peeta runs a free hand through my hair in response. "I wasn't sure I could watch."

"Well it all turned out fine in the end. I can't believe what you almost did though, Katniss. I haven't seen an uproar in my district since I won the games." Ackart says, his dark hair covering one eye. "I think a riot would have started had they not intervened when they did. My youngest sister about did herself in."

"Well… sometimes you just stop thinking about anything else." I have this rehearsed in my head by now.

"But look what's come of it! A petition for better treatment of the tributes postmortem! That's more than anything we could have hoped for back in my day. That the tributes might actually be treated like human beings might be the end of the Hunger Games." Ackart continues, looking for support from the table.

"Some might think it foolish what you're doing." Allen speaks for the first time, his black eyes shining almost yellow in the candlelight, reminding me of what a dog's eyes look like. His eyes bore into mine and I break out into a cold sweat.

"Why do you say that?"

"I mean no disrespect. I'm saying that what with all the speculation about your motives when you took out the berries, you might think it best to lay low. It's hardly a secret that the Capitol isn't happy about how the games turned out." His voice is low and soft, not betraying the horrible screeching that everyone can hear in his laughter and screams. It's almost haunting, the way he talks. "One doesn't go against the Capitol and get away with it."

It's almost a threat in my ears.

"It's not we brought up the petition, man." Peeta intercedes, coming to my rescue. "What happened in the games was a bit unorthodox but we were hardly in our right minds when we were doing it." He hugs me closer to himself.

"I suppose not," Allen digresses, "and like I said. I don't mean any disrespect. But you'd be foolish to not watch your backs from now on. With what they've been whispering on the streets, it won't be long before the Capitol starts looking for the cause of the discourse. You two… are practically the poster couple for it."

"Shut it, Stryker." Surprisingly, it's Kirby that speaks.

"This is hardly something to be discussing over dinner, Allen." Laurent says, dismissing Allen with a wave of his hand.

Allen scoffs and leans back in his chair, still looking at me through his lifeless black eyes. I shift uncomfortably in my seat as our food finally arrives. Everyone has gone quiet as the weight of Allen's words falls down on us. I can see Rowan stealing looks at me and Peeta as she starts eating her steak. I remember that look. It's the same look that everyone and Panem seemed to be giving me when I had volunteered as a tribute. The look you give someone when you think you're seeing them for the last time. The last look.

I'm not hungry anymore.

***

For some reason, Peeta decides to spend the night in his room. I'm not sure if Allen has spoiled our honeymoon, but it sure feels like it. Any light-heartedness that we had been feeling during the day is long gone, and another reality sets in. One that is more foreboding and dim than anything I've ever experienced before.

We had parted from the group, declining offers to go with them into the city for some dancing or the like. Allen's eyes hadn't left me at all that night, boring into me. When I finished eating, I starred defiantly back at him, hoping that he would stop at least for a little while. He didn't. I get the feeling that if anyone is going to be taking a vendetta against me, it will be him. When the Capitol finally comes after me, as everyone seems to think they will, I won't be surprised if Allen leads them right to me. I don't know what I've done to deserve his cruelty, but from the looks of the rest of the former tributes, it's hardly anything new.

Peeta walks me to my room, holding me close. He doesn't offer any words of comfort, almost as if he knows that Allen is right. Instead, he warms my shivering body with his own larger one, burying his face in my hair, pressing me against him. My hands cling to his large back, leaning my head against his chest, sighing.

He presses a kiss to my head before starting towards his own room, his hand gradually sliding out of mine as he goes. I watch his back until he turns the corner, and he turns to look at me one more time before he disappears.

I turn to go to my room ready to knock myself on the head with a bat so maybe I'll sleep tonight.

***

I register a loud rapping on the door. I'm still not asleep, but reduced to starring at the white ceiling and contemplating the non-existent flaws. I turn to the clock. 4:44 AM. I don't think I have anything to do this early.

I lift myself from the warm sheets, wishing they were comfortable enough to fall asleep in, and trudge over the door. I stare out the peek hole in the door, but I don't see anyone. I open the door, but there's no one. I look both ways down the hall but there's no one. There's a whole lot of nothing in this hotel, I think to myself. I pull the door closed, irritated at being distracted from my fake sleeping. I sit on the edge of the bed, taking a drink out of the half-empty bottle of grape soda that makes my throat feel funny. _Isn't there an old game that people play where they knock on doors then run away? _How senseless. I hope I don't have to deal with those kind of idiots here. From what I remember, that's only played by really young children.

_Knock, Knock, Knock, Knock, Knock….._

The knocks sound a little more frantic this time. I take my time getting to the door, wondering what could be waiting on the other side.

I open it again, and the hall is still empty. I don't hear any doors slamming in the halls off of my own, so I don't think that whoever it is actually belongs here. I look both ways again before shutting the door again, starring at it in frustration. This time, I stand by the door, waiting to surprise the person next time they try to knock and give them a piece of my mind.

After five minutes of no knocking, I start to walk away.

_Rap, Rap, Rap_…

I sprint to the door and fling it open revealing….

The Avox Girl?

The slightly crazed way she looks at me makes me step away from the door in shock, and she scurries in after me.

Her breath comes in quick pants, like she's been running for some time. My eyes are wide as I take in her figure.

The crisp uniform she normally wears is in tatters, hanging off her body in strips, but the shirt underneath covers her shaking body well enough. Her fair skin is blotched with pink and full on red as she struggles for breath. Her shoes are worn with mud patches on them, which causes me to wonder how she could have found a patch of mud in this immaculate city. But then it occurred to me that it's been the better part of a month since I've seen her. Maybe she'd made her escape from the Capitol's clutches and has been an invalid between Districts for who knows how long.

I want to talk to her, but it makes it difficult especially since she doesn't seem able to breath, and I probably wouldn't be able to understand her answer anyway.

I think quickly, and go to the corner of the room where several bottles of water with the hotel's emblem around the middle sit. I open the little icebox on the counter but it's almost all melted by now. I turn with the bottle of water and lean down to sit awkwardly on the floor next to her. She'd fallen to her knees sometime during my shock and was sitting on her calves, looking both frightened and uncomfortable.

As she gasped and choked on her own tears, I wonder what she must have gone through to get this way. She looks much like I did when I'd seen myself in the mirror after Peeta and I had won the games. Starring at the unkempt monster that looked frightened and lost and quite barbaric gave me the sort of compassion I need to not flinch when I look at the Avox girl, who looks like her depression is threatening to swallow her whole.

It seems like my brain has finally caught up with everything, and I finally think to get a wash cloth or something that could cool her face and maybe help her gain back her breath. I wet a face cloth in the sink and bring it back to her. She's still crying, her hands and face to the floor.

I try not to startle her as I place a hand on her forehead to tilt her head back. She stiffens a little, but lets me place the towel on her face. She starts breathing heavily through her nose. I feel sorry for her, her dark red hair matted on her head, falling in front of her face. I begin to wipe the mud off of her face.

Suddenly, I hear the door slam. I had forgotten to shut it when she came in.

I look up fearfully, thinking one of the hotel hands has seen me with the girl and ready to kill us both for treason.

I look up, and it's not a worker. It's a ghost.

_Gale!_

***

Oh no she didn't!!

Haha. Oh yes I did. Sorry to leave like this, but it'll give you some things to imagine up, right? =)


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